Three Princes
by GraciellaRed74
Summary: Tig/OFC Joss SEQUEL to "INTENDED": Can a twisted little wedding bring two twisted lovers together, without driving everyone else apart? How much power does "Tijo" actually hold? And who is the "third" prince?
1. High Horse

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 1

"Sam!" Joss's voice was stern, but she didn't yell…somehow…despite the fact that her horse was crab-walking his way across the arena, nose up in the air and reacting to everything around him as though it were out to devour him. But the tall, dapple gray thoroughbred was bluffing, she knew he was. Each day started the same with Sam…first he was belligerent and mean, but when Joss would correct him and demand that he respected her, continuing on with her intentions undiscouraged, then the former race horse would pretend he was afraid…afraid of everything, her, fences, the barn, saddles, Lauren's dogs, other horses…and he could be a convincing panicky mess, but the less attention Joss paid to it, the faster his faux fear disappeared. Then Sam burst into being a spoiled brat, unable to get his way in the toy store, who would throw himself down in the aisle, kicking and screaming until his mother gave in. But Joss never gave in, nor did she acknowledge Sam's tantrums, ignoring him and them until after awhile, he just got bored and gave up, and would actually begin to listen to her. He wasn't a malicious horse, not truly out to hurt her, but he surely did cost Joss a lot of patience…just like Tig. Today had been no different, and Joss and her handsome, dark, dapple gray were currently merging from the faux terror stage into the temper tantrum one.

It had taken three months to get Sam to the point of being able to climb up on him and actually ride, and this was only Joss's sixth time in the saddle on her own horse…but each ride was a bigger and more blood curdling adventure than the last…but they'd get through this…awkward stage, Joss was confident of that. She kept her weight in her heels and held her outside rein a bit higher than her inside one, not allowing Sam to put his head down and buck like she could feel him wanting to, squeezing with her calves and moved Sam forward onto the bridle he strained against. His black tail swished like an irritated cat's, and he gave an equine grunt of protest, but he kind of hopped and stepped forward, moving in the direction Joss was pushing him from the saddle. "Good boy," she told him as he began to walk along again, and she patted his neck, releasing the pressure of her legs, but keeping a lot of weight in her heels, and her seat bones…she just never knew with Sam what would be next…just like Tig.

"I think he's high on grain," Said Lauren, who watched on foot from outside the arena, and Joss laughed inwardly…Tig was never grain high, of course…but…yeah. "Really, there's probably more protein in his feed than he needs now that he's off the track, we might need to switch it out with a more generic kind of stuff; could calm him down a little."

"Yeah," Joss sighed, talking to Lauren, but her attention was on her horse, trying to get him to drop his head at a more comfortable angle for both of them, but at least his ears did flick back towards her every now and then, Sam was listening to her…well, at least he was acknowledging she was telling him to do something, anyway. "I'm afraid of making him colic, though. You know race horses, kinda have sensitive tummies."

Lauren shook her head. "We'll start to mix regular feed into his high powered stuff and get him off of it gradually, he'll be okay." She said then started to laugh a little. "Juice actually helped me feed everyone yesterday when he was here, and I told him not to go into the stall with Sam…but he did it anyway when he went to grain him…and Sam lunged at him with ears plastered back and an open mouth," Lauren still snickered. "Juice says your horse needs an exorcism!" Now Joss laughed as well, her thoughts turning towards her man again; everyone was afraid of Tig, and everyone was afraid of Sam too. Apparently Lauren had made that connection herself. "So, has Tig seen you up on him yet?"

"No," Joss replied, but smiled excitedly. She'd been so proud and so happy the first time she'd actually gotten on her horse and it had been all she'd talked about during dinner one night…and Tig, despite how he knew nothing about horses, and didn't really care, listened to it all. Joss's smile broadened. "But he actually does want to see me ride! So tomorrow maybe, if…" and her smile faded as Joss sighed. "If Gemma doesn't call me to go over more wedding shit…"

Lauren laughed. "It's your wedding, you know," she smiled. "You can't go calling the planning and preparation 'shit.'" And she laughed some more.

But Joss shook her head. "Is it my wedding?" She asked as if having to think for a moment. "It's so hard to tell anymore…Gemma has a very clear and detailed idea for what it should be like, and what should happen, who should be there, and what should be said. She took charge, and now when she asks me something like, 'what's your guest list look like?' and I answer, 'it's not much, I don't want anything real big,' she starts with, 'oh honey,' and then that goes into, 'no, you want to invite anyone who has ever heard of Tig; you want this to be as big a deal as it can be!' and all of a sudden, everyone wearing a cut in California that the club's on good terms with is getting an invitation!"

"How is she going to have that many people at her house?" Lauren asked. "I mean, she is still insisting that you get married in her back yard, right?"

Joss nodded, felt Sam trying to put his head up high again and she gathered a little more outside rein in her hand and sat a little deeper in the saddle; squeezing him forward with her legs…he was such a brat. "Oh yeah, she's making Clay build a damn gazebo!" Joss sighed; it was so rare anymore that she got to do anything that wasn't wedding centered, and there wasn't even a date set yet, other than "soon." "I don't want to sound ungrateful," she said, and looked over her shoulder at Lauren for a moment, "I really don't, I mean Gemma, and Clay, certainly didn't have to offer to pay for my wedding…and I guess because they are, it is sorta Gemma's wedding, and so I'm trying to be quiet and just go with what she wants…but it's not really what I want. I mean, we're Tig and Joss, not Prince William and Kate Middleton! Gemma's going all out and I'm actually dreading my own wedding day." But, Joss did understand the reason for all the pomp and circumstance…even if she hated it.

"How about Tig?" Lauren asked, like she was trying to think of an 'out' for Joss. "I can't imagine he's too impressed…particularly with a gazebo." She laughed.

Again Joss sighed. "Tig?" She asked; Tig's "other obligations" had always been there to get him out of all the wedding shit…it was so unfair! "I'm getting the impression that he's not as vital a piece of this shitty puzzle as is what kind of favors we're going to give to guests…and he couldn't be happier with that status; said to just let him know 'when' and 'where' and he'll show up in black…that's all the input anyone seems to need from him!" Joss huffed, and her mind began racing with how many hours she'd spent poring over those stupid bridal magazines at the dining room table with Gemma while Tig went out back to smoke with Clay. "It sucks," Joss said, and she could feel Sam trying to pull away from rail again and lateral his way into the center of the arena, and she pressed her inside leg against him even more, forcing him into a trot and turning him in a tight circle, making it harder for him to do what he wanted to do than it was to just do it her way. The big gray was smart enough to get that and was walking along the rail like she'd asked in no time. "Right now, Gemma's on me about choosing a dress…one that she likes, of course…and she's on some kick to have me sleeping over her house, in Jax's old room, so she and I can get 'an early' start on the great dress search, which always takes all damn day…I don't get to see Tig during the day because he's working, and then I end up over at Gemma's all night…I'm so busy with wedding shit that I hardly even get to see the man I'm marrying!" And that really really really sucked! It must have been the pre-wedding jitters…well, maybe not since "jitters" were supposed to lead to cold feet, and there was nothing "cold" about what she and Tig had going lately…they were all over each other at every available moment, and Joss just couldn't be with him enough or be close enough against him. Being around him, being near her man was the ultimate heaven lately…she just wanted to be close to him…and they didn't have to be doing anything at all. Fuck…was she getting clingy?

Lauren was nodding her sympathies and had been about to say something when about two hundred yards away, a deer burst through the open hay field, running full tilt, Sam's eyes picking up the erratic movement, his ears pricked forward at the buck, and Joss sat there on his back, realizing in a split second that her crazy horse was thinking of his next bluff, but before she could prepare, Sam jumped upwards, Joss leaned forwards in the saddle to counter balance, but Sam, feeling her move, threw his head back towards her, his front hooves leaving the ground with all his strength, and he reared up as a high as he could, striking out towards the far off running deer with his front feet defensively, Joss thrusting her hands and the reins as far forward as she could to avoid pulling Sam's head further back and causing him to flip over on top of her and crush her. Sam maintained his balance, but then ran off, tearing around the arena like wild dogs were after him, but Joss wasn't with him for the trip.

"Oh my God!" Lauren quickly climbed, and then jumped down from, the arena fence, running towards Joss, who struggled to get to up on her knees. "Don't move!"

"I'm okay!" Joss yelled to Lauren, and she was…she thought…more stunned, and dizzy than anything else. Nothing really hurt, but she couldn't get to her feet because of how the world was still spinning…and there was blood in her mouth…why was that? Still trying to make sense of things, Joss wiped at the blood, discovering that it wasn't from her lips, it was flowing from her nose…when Sam tossed his head back, he must have smacked her pretty hard in the face with the crest of his neck…and now the pain was awakening…well…no wonder her legs had turned to jelly and she'd gone sliding down his back when he reared up, it was the shock of being bashed in the face. Damn it! And damn her horse's creativity in pretending to be spooked…yeah, he was really scared by a deer that was an eighth of a mile away…uh-huh, sure Sam! Wow, he was better than Tig was with this freaking out shit! Oh, but they'd get through this…Joss hadn't expected it to be easy, and it surely hadn't been with Tig! "Really, I'm fine," she yelled to Lauren again, but Joss knew she couldn't quite get to her feet, not yet, but Sam was running like a mad man around the arena, and Joss's first thoughts were of his feet becoming tangled in the reins, she'd thrust her hands so near the bridle when he'd reared up and the reins could have gone over his head after she'd fallen and Sam took off like a maniac, she just didn't know. "Catch Sam, I need a few seconds."

Lauren quickly changed course and stopped running, turning towards the big gray Thoroughbred. "Alright," she said to him calmly as he stopped in the corner of the arena to suspiciously watch her approach, but both she and Joss knew that Sam would likely take off again. "You're really being a jackass today," Lauren was saying, in the kindest, most patient of voices, not wanting to further hype Sam up, but such hateful words in such a nurturing tone made Joss laugh as she struggled to get her bearings, watching Lauren getting closer and closer to Sam, who wasn't running…yet. "And you better get your act together," Lauren was saying to Sam, still talking like he was something so precious to her, and she was very nearly to him now. "Because Joss owns you, but Tig owns Joss, and Tig's not who you want coming after your dappled ass!" Joss again tried hard not to laugh as Lauren reached up and actually was able to grab Sam's reins as he stood there quietly and snorted a little bit at her…wow, maybe he understood what she told him?

"Thanks!" Joss called from where she sat in a heap on the crushed gravel, and took a deep breath, wiping at her bloody nose again and noticing there were drops of blood speckling her shirt and riding tights. "Shit!" She groaned as she looked down at it…fifteen or twenty bloody drops and smears all over and around the black decal of the M-16 with the scythe. "I had to be wearing the white SAMCRO tank today, too!"

"Yeah?" Lauren asked, leading Sam behind her over to where Joss still sat. The horse was so calm now, like nothing had ever happened…the big dope! "If I were you, I'd be more worried about what my face was going to look like at that photo shoot next week!"

"Oh fuck!" Joss groaned louder this time, so loud that it made Sam legitimately spook and back up with his head high in the air again, but Lauren soon had him calmed. "Sorry, Sam," Joss said softly, looking up at the big Thoroughbred, "but if you broke my nose, there's going to be a lot people unhappy with you!" This would be her second photo shoot, the first one being very 1940's nostalgic, just a few shots of her to create her portfolio and send out to whomever might be interested and want more…and to her surprise, there had been lots and lots of responses…somewhat dark responses…a company called "Violet Shroud" that specialized in some really cool gothic clothing and lingerie, which Joss was so excited about, and even an author of vampire fiction had requested her as the cover model for her latest novel. Gemma had taken charge of the modeling as well, but in a good way, she was an awesome manager who didn't take any shit from agents or photographers, and she'd even managed to work a deal with "Violet Shroud" that meant Joss got to keep every piece of clothing she modeled! But the shoot next week was for a designer who restored and recreated vintage clothing, but only the most formal and glamorous pieces that reminded Joss of Fay Wray, Vivien Leigh, Veronica Lake…Tig would be on set…as he had been the first time…that was the condition he'd made Joss agree to before allowing her to do any of the modeling, and despite how he routinely objected to…well, everything, Joss still loved every minute of it! Hopefully Sam hadn't wrecked her face!

Joss shook her head and noticed that she wasn't quite as dizzy any longer, then started another attempt at standing again, managing to get her right foot on the ground and starting to push up off of the crushed gravel when there was an explosion of pain between her right hip and ribs that throbbed and ached and didn't stop for what seemed like forever. "Whoa!" she moaned, and collapsed again, clutching her side, knowing there was no possible way an alien was shortly to pop out of her abdomen, but wondering if it might…this was a pain she'd never felt before, a vice grip inside of her, clamping down hard on something deep inside her, like some vital anatomical structure was being squeezed then released, squeezed then released...it took her breath away.

"Are you okay?" Lauren stood there looking a little pale. "Look, I'll throw Sam in a stall and call for help; you don't look so good all of a sudden!"

"No!" Joss quickly answered, and took another deep breath, discovering that whatever it was, it was beginning to lessen now, the throbbing subsiding into a dull ache that was so much more bearable. "It's good, I must have just bent funny when I came off of him, I think it just twisted a nerve a little bit, that's all."

"Anything else hurt?" Lauren asked, shaking her head and looking at Joss skeptically like she didn't believe everything was really okay. Fine, Joss would prove it to her, and ignored any lingering pain in her right side, and quickly got her feet under her and stood up, straight…which hurt like hell, but she hid it.

"Nope," Joss reported, reaching out to take the reins from Lauren. "I'm good…and I'm also getting back on! He doesn't get to dump me like that and then retire for the day thinking he won!"

"Normally, I'd agree with you on that, but, are you sure—" Lauren started, but Joss's foot was already in the stirrup, and her right side ached more and more when she bounced to swing up onto Sam again, but that only meant that it was likely a pulled muscle in her abdominal wall, and she ceased worrying about it, a few days and it would be fine.

Joss was nearly in the saddle again when her cellphone, strapped to her riding boot, began to ring. "Figures," she sighed and slid back to the ground, shaking her head and patting Sam's neck as she grabbed her phone from the Velcro strap that held it in place on her leg. She looked down at the screen; sighing heavily, and then looked back at Lauren…this was the last thing she needed. "Gemma!" Joss sighed heavily and despondently. "Hail wedding!"


	2. Dynasty

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 2

This was actually a good thing. At least, that's what Joss kept telling herself as she crossed her fingers and parked the Explorer on the garage lot. Gemma had said to come to the garage on her way home and she'd said nothing about coming over to the house later to talk more wedding shit…at least, not yet she hadn't. Joss really wasn't in the mood tonight, it had been a rough day with Sam, and all she really wanted to do was go home, take some hydrogen peroxide to her blood spattered white shirt and riding tights and then relax this pulled abdominal muscle in a hot bath…and wait there, in the tub, for Tig to come home! There was no need for all this constant planning and discussion; the wedding may have been "soon," but it certainly wasn't tomorrow. Enough was enough.

Besides, Joss wasn't into this wedding shit, maybe she should have been, but Tig wasn't into it either. It would have bothered Joss a little that neither of them seemed to give a flying fuck about the wedding, but she knew that was only because they were into each other a lot more, so much so that every thought concerning their marriage was of each other, and not the actual wedding shit. They were getting married, they loved each other intensely, they were the next Clay and Gemma, and all of these thoughts whirled around them like some hurricane gathering strength…they wanted each other constantly, the need and desire and pure joy of being together ever amplified the closer and closer "soon" seemed to be coming…Joss was going to be Tig's, in this life and any other one as well…in her eyes, her patch would always be more valuable than any vows made at an altar, but once they were said, even all those fucking civilians would understand that she belonged to Tig! Tig…she really wanted him tonight! All these planning sessions with Gemma were interrupting and defusing the energy running between Joss and Tig right now…she wanted her man immensely, he wanted her madly, and nothing else currently mattered to them…particularly not centerpieces and veils and cake toppers and something blue!

Blue…ouch…her side and belly were likely to be blue, and black, by tomorrow…the tiger on the left side of her ribs and hip would be staring at a nice big bruise tomorrow morning. Her right side still hurt as she walked towards the office, really wishing she could have gone home and changed first. She'd been able to wash the blood off of her face with water from the hose and some paper towels at the barn, but here she was, at the garage, in khaki, blood spattered, riding breeches, with black riding boots that came to just below her knee, a dirty, bloody, SAMCRO tank top, and her ebony hair pulled properly back into a long French braid, but a little askew here and there from having been wearing her riding helmet. She looked so out of place and unlike her usual self that no one would likely even recognize her, and she felt out of place. She wasn't wearing her patch…she usually didn't wear it at the barn, was too afraid of getting it messed up, but had she known she'd be stopping by the garage on the way home, she'd have thrown it into the truck to put on when she'd gotten here.

Gemma was on the phone as the Joss entered the office, and she half looked up and gave Joss a smile and a wave as Joss took a seat in the chair up against the wall on the other side of Gemma's desk, but all of a sudden, Joss sensed unrest on Gemma's part, and looked over concernedly, who was she on the phone with, and what the hell had they just said to her? Or was this just some more sudden wedding shit that had occurred to Gemma?

"I'll call you back!" Gemma said quickly and hung up the phone, her eyes on Joss the whole time. "Oh my God!" One manicured hand covered her mouth as she took in all of Joss's bloody tank top and puffy nose and upper lip into focus. "Honey, what happened?"

"It's just horses, Gemma." Joss shrugged, trying her best not to make anything out of this, because it really was nothing. "I've got a crazy one, either you can hack it, or you can't."

"You need to get checked out," Gemma was coming around the desk now to stand in front of Joss, probably envisioning a black eyed bride…or…shit, the photo shoot! Did Joss really look that bad? "Looks like your insurance card I was telling you to come pick up showed up just in time!"

Joss shook her head. "No, I'm not going to Saint Thomas's," she insisted, and she wasn't. That was nowhere in her plans for this evening…Tig…she only wanted Tig, with his shirt off, her fingers plowing through all the dark curls on his broad chest as her lips skimmed his skin…damn, now she felt a little dizzy again, but she shook it off. "I'm fine, Gemma. If I wasn't fine, I wouldn't have been able to drive here. I even got back on the horse after he knocked me in the head and threw me off!"

Gemma sighed, obviously agreeing with Joss's assessment, but she still leaned over her, looking at the slight swelling and continued fussing. "If you and Tigger aren't a pair," she rolled her eyes, as she next turned towards the filing cabinet that housed the first aid kit, opening it and beginning to dig around for a chemical cold pack. "You're every bit as crazy as he is, just in a different way."

Joss ignored the comment…but it did make her smile…and smiling hurt a little bit, but it was okay…but was her face? She hadn't checked on it lately. "I should be fine by next week…right? I mean, you're not worried about having to reschedule the shoot, are you?" She asked Gemma who now held the cold pack she's been seeking and was popping the water packet within the white plastic bag of ammonium chloride pellets and shaking it until it was good and cold then instead of handing it to Joss, Gemma pressed it gently over Joss's nose, further placing Joss's hand there to hold it.

"Now you keep that on there!" Gemma said as if she were already scolding Joss for removing it, and returned to her desk and began to move a few papers until she found the envelope she'd called Joss to come pick up. "And honey, if you're not 'okay' by the shoot then rescheduling it's not a big deal. They need us, baby girl, we don't need them." Gemma reminded with a smug look, and finally came across the envelope from the insurance company, handing it over to Joss.

Joss nodded, so glad and relieved that Gemma wasn't angry at her for taking a shot to the face today, though as her manager, Gemma could have been. "So I'm officially on your guy's insurance now?" She smiled instead as she took the envelope from Gemma.

Gemma nodded and looked so fulfilled. "Our policy now includes me, Clay and you," she told her, everything having gone as planned, but then Gemma smiled as Joss began to open the envelope. "And, check out your name on the card!"

No way! That hadn't taken nearly as long as Joss was afraid it would have taken! She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the form letter that the stiff, plastic card was attached to, and sure enough, there was her new, legal name in print for the first time: Josselyn I. Morrow. "Yay!" it may have hurt to smile, but Joss couldn't stop, this was all working so perfectly, and Tig's plan had made her so thrilled that she was only seventeen years old after all. They'd wanted to get married as soon as possible, but in order to do that, it would require the consent and signature of at least one of Joss's legal guardians…which she didn't have at least one of…and that's when Tig had suggested Clay and Gemma…which couldn't have been more perfect, for all involved, for many reasons. Clay and Gemma were more than willing to file for "custody" of Joss, making her "their child" as far as the club was concerned, and once all the paperwork hit all the right marks, both Gemma and Clay had given their legal consent for their seventeen year old "daughter" to marry Alexander Trager.

It was taking forever to get the actual marriage license though…that had been the slowest part of all of this, something about the clerk of courts position being unexpectedly vacated, and all marriage licenses were backed up…fucking government bureaucracy! Joss and Tig had applied for the license after she'd petitioned to have her name legally changed, but Joss had expected to have the marriage license before her name change request went through, but no. Oh well…having her new name legally official was satisfying in and of itself. She'd changed the spelling of her first name to reflect what Tig had always called her, and she'd just been so eager to ditch the last name "MacQueen!" One of the best things about marrying Tig was going to be losing her father's name! But that wasn't the only reason for legally changing it. Clay and Gemma taking on the role of Joss's legal guardians had set a tone, and it had been one of her many heart to hearts with Clay that they frequently had, where it was decided that Joss's name would become "Morrow." She couldn't have been prouder that Clay would suggest his name to her so she could cast off "MacQueen" and all the unpleasantness that came with it as soon as was possible, but that hadn't been the only reason he'd suggested it. Joss was linked to Clay now in a very evident way, inviting the feel of royal blood ascending to the throne, and the entire club was getting that message loud and clear. Nothing was official, there was absolutely no talk of Clay's retirement, but the dye had definitely been cast. She was now Josselyn Inez Morrow, when she married Tig she'd become Josselyn Morrow-Trager, making Tig SAMCRO's "prince" by marriage, and one day, he'd be king.

Joss was still staring at her new, legal name on her new insurance card, as best she could while holding the cold pack on her face, when she heard Half-Sack plod into the office, reaching for keys to the flatbed. "Gemma, I can go after those repos now," he said to her without really looking at her, but then turned around when Gemma acknowledged his statement and fished out the paperwork he'd need. "Hey Joss!" He smiled affably as he took the forms from Gemma, but his expression soon changed as he saw all of Joss. "Whoa!" Sack exclaimed with wide, worried eyes, and then scrambled to the doorway into the garage, Joss not fast enough to stop him before he blurted out, "Tig! Joss is here, and there's blood all over her, man!"

"Great," Joss sighed, slumping in the chair and shook her head beneath the cold pack she kept pressed to her face. "I'm sure Tig will remain calm." She said sarcastically to Gemma, who laughed.

"He's doing what's expected of him," Gemma replied, but there was something…wedding-shitty in her tone, but Joss couldn't place why, they were talking about Tig. "At least he is in this instance." She finished flatly.

Joss really wanted to discuss that comment, or at least roll it over in her mind awhile and try to figure out what kind of gripe Gemma had…was Tig not living up to the expectations Gemma apparently had of him as far as this wedding shit went? How fucking dare she…no one went after Joss's man! No…stay calm, don't pull a Tig! There was no way of knowing what Gemma really meant, and there was too much commotion in the garage to ponder it now, the frantic sounds of biker boots pounding through the tire bay and heading towards the office drowned out Joss's musings…but as the sounds approached, it was evident that it wasn't just one set of running footsteps, but two. Joss looked up curiously, seeing Tig hurtling towards the office, but beside him, keeping pace, was Opie. Again she sighed…some things just never changed, though there had been some improvements between Tig and Ope, and Ope ceased to be following her around like a sad, lost puppy, and it was actually possible to have general, superficial conversations with him that didn't lead to Opie staring longingly at her, or eventually ending up standing closer to her needed to, or just leaving Joss with the feeling that when Ope came around, she should pull a veil across her face. Joss was hoping it all meant that Ope was getting over her, if not over her already…but well, at the mention of blood, he did seem to be awfully gripped by panic. Damn! Opie was dealing with what he felt, but he was still feeling it enough…but as Joss watched, Ope did seem to have the ability to realize he'd answered a call that wasn't for him!

Opie stopped short, so did Tig when he too noticed the uncalled for back-up he had, and for a split second each reaper man stood looking at one another like each was wondering what the other was doing there, and then Tig shot Opie a glare, "I got this!" Tig reminded in a harsh and exasperated tone, the coldness in his ice blue eyes enough to push Opie away.

"Yeah," Ope stepped back, nodding. "Sorry, bro. Tough to ignore words like that, you know?"

"Yeah," Tig replied, his voice still perturbed, but a little less angry. He started for the office again, alone. "I do, but she's mine! I need you, I'll let you know."

Wow…really, fucking wow! The last time Joss had seen Tig and Ope dealing with this had included tears and catatonia…this current exchange had been a far cry from that; Opie realizing he shouldn't have responded, and backing off immediately, with Tig staying centered and not lunging after Ope with fists swinging, not taking this overlap of concern into Joss's well being to the ground. There really was some progress being made, by both of them! Her man, in his own way, he really was amazing! Joss was smiling by the time Tig rushed into the office, but not for long.

"Joss!" He yelled fearfully and was crouched down in front of her in no time, ignoring Gemma and Sack, his eyes seeing all of the blood, the cold pack Joss had lowered now and the slight swelling of her nose and upper lip, but it was like he didn't know where to focus, and compensated by starting to crack his knuckles and get angry, "Jesus fucking Christ baby, who hit you?"

Gemma snickered a little at Tig's assumption, and Joss opened her mouth to try and explain, but Ope's voice came out. "Tell him, Joss!" Opie was yelling vehemently from just outside the doorway, making Gemma and Joss both roll their eyes, Tig grit his teeth and Half-Sack stand there like he wished he could have missed this part.

"God damn it, Ope!" Tig yelled over his shoulder. "Just fucking put tires on something! I don't care if it's a bucket!"

Opie groaned like some protesting teenager trying to tamp down his emotions, but then seemed to remember his place once more. "Sorry…again!" He yelled to Tig, and then finally began to walk away.

"I'm sorry too, baby," Tig's attention was immediately back on Joss, his worry returning as he examined her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other smoothing her hair. "I've been on him about that shit and Ope's been holding together really good the last few weeks, but I guess he just…relapsed or some shit." His eyes were on hers for a moment, so anxious and so hopeful that she wasn't badly hurt, Tig's dirty fingers gently cupping her jaw now and slowly turning her head from one side to the other so he could get the panoramic view of her injuries. He looked at everything, Joss could see him doing it, his expression twitching at every red blotch and bit of swelling he saw, and his other hand now gently on her shoulder, comforting her from any pain she was in. Tig never did take it well if she was hurt, or sick, and all the emotions flourishing between them with their marriage drawing near only made him that much more protective and crazy. But, Joss could see he was relaxing a little, at least over how badly hurt he'd feared she was. "It don't look too bad, but what happened? If I gotta take someone out, you tell me who, and you tell me now!"

Joss sighed, finally she got to talk, but she didn't want to…it wasn't like she could lie to Tig about what happened, and she wasn't sure what he was going to propose when he found out. "Sam."

His brow furrowed, "Who the fuck is Sam?" Tig was making a face and trying to understand; obviously wanting to hear her say a name that made sense, a name he'd recognize and know where to find…a name that indicated someone with two feet.

"Tig," Joss shook her head and sighed, she really didn't want to get into it. The whole thing was silly, she was keeping her horse and would ride him again tomorrow; she was fine and she wasn't going to the hospital! "My horse?" She told him, part of her wanting to make him feel silly, even if Tig didn't understand why he should; he had only responded to the words Half-Sack had yelled into the garage. Joss's eyes drifted to the prospect. "I had a little riding accident before I got here…but I'm okay…no reason to go yelling 'fire' in the proverbial crowded movie theater."

"Oh…" Sack slowly exhaled the word, looking sheepish now, but suddenly remembered his 'out.' "I got these repos to be gettin' to…" and he turned and ran out the door with the keys to the flatbed before Tig could start in on him.

"Kids," Gemma sighed as she watched Sack run off, and she smiled a bit, her eyes falling on Joss again, then Tig. "So, you beatin' up the horse, Tigger?" She laughed. "Going to horse whip him?"

Tig had been looking over his shoulder at Sack's hasty retreat and scowling in his direction, but now he looked at Gemma and just shook his head, forgetting her comment and focusing on Joss once more, but his irritation was up now, along with the his panic not having fully settled, but he touched her so gently, the contact between them seeming to heal everything. "What the fuck, Joss? You fall off on your face?"

"No!" She groaned in frustration and rolled her eyes at him, and if she could have, she would have just gotten up and walked away at this point…she hated to talk about not being able to handle her horse on the rare occasion that she couldn't, and all this talk about it was just making her side hurt more and more too…damn, she had to keep that a secret, or Tig would make her go to the hospital! But, if he didn't care, he wouldn't be so upset and attentive, despite how over her mishap Joss was by now. "Sam reared up, we knocked heads together, so to speak, and then I fell off." She quickly explained, and then saw Gemma nodding like now she finally understood as well, but Tig wasn't satisfied yet. "I'm fine," she asserted to him, but knew he wouldn't let up on it just like that; he was thinking 'hospital.' Fuck…she needed a distraction, and luckily, she had one! Joss smiled and grabbed the insurance card in her lap, shoving it into Tig's hand. "And look!" She said cheerfully, changing the subject and hoping he wouldn't notice, "We've got the first legal recognition of my new name!"

Tig shook his head again like he didn't care about that right now, but he looked at the card anyway, and a smile spread across his face. "Alright!" He celebrated and looked back at her, the hand on her shoulder moving behind her head as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, his hand remaining on the back of her head as his fingers began trying to pull her braid loose…he liked her hair down. "It's all happening, baby! It really is!"

"Yup," Gemma's voice suddenly hung over them, just as she did, standing behind her desk and looking down at the betrothed couple. "She's mine and Clay's 'little girl' now," she said with her own satisfied smile, but it soon unwound some as she turned her eyes exclusively on Tig, looking so very mother-in-law-ish. "So Mr. Trager," she said expectantly. "The day's coming when we'll be giving her away to you. But you aren't thinking I'll be letting that happen before you put a diamond on my girl's finger, are you?"


	3. Synthetic Stones

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 3

"What's wrong with a cubic zirconia?" Joss stood at the counter trying to find a way to dish out a bowl of stew from the crock-pot for Tig without aggravating her pulled abdominal muscle too much, but it seemed to be connected to every move she made. Rings were all they'd been talking about since he came home…thanks to Gemma. Joss may not have been on her way over to Gemma's house to do more wedding shit, but now the wedding shit was following her home. This really wasn't fair! She didn't want to be talking to Tig about this…she didn't want to be talking with him at all…she wanted to be upstairs, below him, with her ankles on his shoulders, him fucking her so hard she'd have to warn him to leave some for the honeymoon! But, no…rings…fucking rings…and it was ruining everything! Ever since Gemma had to go and open her mouth about Joss's MIA engagement ring, it had introduced some kind of disjointed energy between Joss and Tig, and Joss was trying so hard to figure out how to push it away and get back to that passionate, crazy, "I want you now" state of being that had enraptured them both before. But nope…rings…diamonds were a girl's best friend? What asshole ever said that? But, well, rings were better than discussing her fall from Sam, and how bruised up she'd be by tomorrow…stupid horse! "I don't even want a ring, Tig. But if I have to have one, let's not spend a lot of money on it. Besides, some cubic zirconias look even better than actual diamonds, but they don't cost anywhere near as much!" She flopped the plate of stew and egg noodles down in front of Tig at the kitchen table and then turned to grab her own plate and take it to the table as well…damn, it hurt her side to even lift up her dinner!

"Joss, Gemma's not going to let me get away with that," Tig shook his head, stirring through his dinner with a fork. "I shoulda got you a ring a while ago, and it's been bothering her that I haven't yet, and now she's finally kicking me in the ass about it. She's going to expect big things outta me." He said, mixing the stew and the noodles together then reaching for the hot sauce that Joss kept on the table. "You know why," he said to her without looking up. "You know what you're going to be one day, and you need to look the part."

Joss sighed, she couldn't argue with that…Gemma always was set apart from every other woman around SAMCRO and no one had any trouble picking out who was the top man's old lady, she was well taken care of, in every aspect of clothes, jewelry, cars, house…and Gemma wanted, no, she expected the same for Joss. It was touching, and it made Joss feel so loved, and also so responsible and aware of just what her future office entailed, but it also felt a tish bit pageant-y…and Joss was still looking for a way around that. She looked at Tig pleadingly. "That doesn't mean I have to have some huge rock on my finger!"

"Yeah," Tig nodded, looking up now and his expression was stern and serious, there'd be no more arguing about it. "It does, and you will!" He promised.

No…this felt so…uselessly showy. "But," she sputtered, pushing vegetables around in her stew with her spoon, and trying to think of a way to still protest this without sounding obstinate. "What if you get me some million dollar ring and I lose it?"

"Joss!" Tig's frustration came out now and he threw his fork down onto the table. "Why the fucking hell do I always end up arguing with you over shit that no other bitch in the world would be arguing with her old man about?"

She should have just apologized and accepted Tig's decree…but this wasn't his decree, not really…it was Gemma's…everything connected to her wedding was Gemma. Joss loved Gemma, was so thrilled that in a legal sense now, that was her mother, but at the same time, and for the first time, Joss had her fill of Gemma! It was a scary and cold feeling to have, to be cringing every time Gemma's number appeared on her phone, or be sitting there at Gemma's dining room table and wishing like hell that Gemma would shut the fuck up. These were all terrible thoughts, and it was making Joss feel so awful inside…she loved Gemma, so why was it that she also was becoming so put off by her? Joss didn't care about weddings, this was a stupid thing to be fighting about…but she cared about her and Tig, and she wanted to get married their way…not Gemma's way, even if pomp and circumstance were expected for the "royal couple's royal wedding."

It was terrible, and Joss maybe was awful…but that was it, she'd had enough of doing things Gemma's way…though she of course could never ever ever say so. But, this was her engagement ring they were talking about, and while it seemed such a silly tradition, if it was to be upheld here, then Joss wanted what she wanted…whatever that was. She sat forward in her chair across from Tig…and fuck did it hurt to sit forward like that, but she leveled a hard stare at him. "Maybe because I'm not every other bitch in the world; I'm me, and I'm fucked up enough to be in love with someone as fucked up as you are, and that's what I wanna see when I look at my left ring finger…not some…jerk-wad, ostentatious, 'smell me' diamond!" She had Tig's attention now, and somehow she'd even gotten her words into his head and they were turning over in there again and again…and they were doing the same thing in her own head…wow…maybe Joss did actually want a ring? But not the kind Gemma expected Tig to get; that was for certain! Joss smiled faintly and lightened her tone. "I don't want a ring that says 'the queen,' I want a ring that says Tig Trager loves me."

Tig sighed, but nodded a little bit, he did understand, but of course, he didn't want to understand, and wasn't about to act like he did. He just picked up his fork again as he turned his attention back to his dinner, sneering a little. "Where the fuck am I gonna find a ring with two skeletons beatin' a cow with a spatula?"

"What?" But why had she bothered to ask? "I don't know," Joss shook her head and rolled her eyes, going back to her own dinner and ignoring the feeling that something had been stretched to abnormal proportions within her…damn oblique…settle down! "But it's your problem." Tig was going to protest that, Joss could tell, and this could be a long argument that she really didn't have in her…she didn't want to be fighting with Tig, she wanted be snuggling against his broad chest, kissing his neck as he held her tightly…well, maybe not too tightly…she didn't need any squeezing going on around her right side tonight. Not that it mattered, because here they were, fighting about stupid rings! But luckily her cellphone began to chirp away with an incoming text message.

"Who is that?" Tig asked pointing to her phone with his fork as Joss picked it up.

She grimaced a bit. "Jax," she said, hitting the "select" button and opening the message, a little afraid of what it might say, but she knew it wouldn't say much really, beginning to read aloud anyway. "'Heard you're now officially my little sister, welcome to the family, but sorry it's ours, ha ha.'" Joss sighed and shook her head again, but slid her phone open to reply with a "thank you, bro" but she could feel Tig looking at her with that uncertain stare.

"Somethin's up with him," Tig said, but did nothing to stop Joss from answering Jax's text. "He's doing all this 'welcome to the family' shit on the surface, but he's got something big planned, he knows what everyone else in the club knows, and he's being way too quiet about it, so be careful, you gettin' me?"

"You know I always am," She answered, and then handed Tig her phone so he could read the message she was about to send to Jax, and once Tig had approved it and given her the phone back, Joss hit "send," but sighed again. "It really is a shame he's got to be so…Jax," she said, and took up her spoon again. "I thought he and I would be really close once, and maybe we would be if he were smart enough, or brave enough, to confront what his issues are and not push them off onto Clay and the club itself." Joss exhaled briefly and mournfully; her first few days in Charming had left her with the staunch impression that her two closest friends would be Tara and Jax. Jax had been like the brother she'd never had, and the two of them used to take such great delight in acting like feuding children requiring Gemma's firm hand, and the sermon-like manifestos that Jax used to sit at the foot of Joss's hospital bed and recount for her used to intrigue her so very much…but that veil of guru-ism quickly began to disintegrate, revealing that Jax was no great thinker or philosopher, he was Jax...lost, angry, and trying to put the wrong thing right while the right thing continued to elude him, and it always would until he finally figured out that it wasn't in the place where he kept searching for it. In a manufactured way, she and Jax were siblings now; but their family tree bore no hoped for fruit of unity between brother and sister…it only yielded up its many twisted roots. Jax, he was a thorn in the side, a whining child in need of constant attention and coddling over the same skinned up knee he kept picking at and wouldn't let heal. Joss looked across at Tig again. "Family or not, I don't know how you're going to deal with him one day, baby, but I wouldn't leave him in that VP slot, he's too…delusional with all the stuff he's trying to get through, but can't recognize as his shit."

"You tellin' me how to run a club I don't even have yet?" Tig responded a bit amusedly and a bit aggravated at the same time.

"No, of course not," Joss shrugged, "I was just thinking about how things were going to look in the future." Okay, so she was kind of telling him how to run the club…a little bit…Joss had to admit that…Jax was going to be a problem. What he figured to be his birthright was slipping from his grasp. Jax was many things, but he wasn't stupid, he knew that Joss's new last name was only paving Tig's way to the throne in a more and more legitimate way; the Teller line was broken when Clay came to power, the Morrow line had been established in place of the Teller line, and by the grace of legal guardianship and now pending marriage, Tig was the Morrow prince. Not that "lineage" was some requirement in any MC, but it often times helped to cement the leadership future of a club, and it always seemed to strengthen any club to have a traceable "royal" legacy. It was something that helped protect the club from enemies in the time of transition from one president to another; that the Mayans and others would understand that SAMCRO was now under the rule of "Clay's son-in-law" had a lot more power behind it than merely saying they had a "new president." There was respect and fear around Clay's name, and whoever took the reins from him, had to be immediately assumed capable of upholding that. In SAMCRO, with the lines drawn between John Teller, to Gemma, to Clay, and now to Joss, and from there to Tig…well…there seemed to be a way of passing on the power, and it was through the women. The kings may be dead, but long lived the queens.

Joss looked over at Tig now, who was obviously deep in thought about what would have to be done about Jax, what kind of dissidence Tig would spend his reign forever putting down, but Tig was who put everything "down," he could handle Jax…one way, or another…Tig wasn't married to his mother! Hmm…so there was going to be a slot to fill for VP in the future? Wow…who would be taking that? No, Joss shouldn't sit here and ponder this…this was completely Tig's decision…but maybe Bobby should get it! Bobby did deserve such a promotion, and he was level headed and gave a lot to the club, Tig needed that…and plus, Joss loved Bobby! Yeah…when the time came, Joss would be throwing her support and doing some campaigning for dear Uncle Bobby! She loved Clay, and on the day he stepped down, Joss's tears would be unstoppable, but the era Tig would usher in was going to mean so much for so many! Tig…Joss smiled at him, the Morrow prince, the man she belonged to, her husband to be…how had she gotten such a man? "You know," she smiled even more at him, looking at him so proudly…oh but she wanted to wrap her arms around him and just devour the feel of him with every sense of touch she possessed! "I meant what I said about my ring," she told him, putting her left hand over his. "I want it to be from you, not from the power you'll one day hold."

Chapter 3: Part 2

"Joss?" Holy shit, this was some disgusting shit he was watching go down. First it was weird that she was eating the same stuff he was eating, but further scrutiny had revealed her stew only had vegetables in it, and his was chock full of meatballs…at least, Tig hoped they were meatballs…they better fucking be meatballs…she'd already tried to sneak her vegetarian…pretend meat shit in on him once…Turkey Chili his ass…turkey shouldn't fucking melt on his spoon, or stick to his teeth! God fucking damn that shit was awful…eat enough of that, and it would shrink his dick, he knew it would…that damn girl gave him God damn dick shrinking chili last week…okay, so maybe Joss had been so busy with Gemma and the wedding planning that Joss didn't have time to go to the store and buy actual dead animal meat…but still, feeding a man facsimile meat? No…that had to be in violation of some convention somewhere…hell, that was going to be one of the marriage vows he was going to make Joss take..."Tig, I promise to love, honor and whatever, and to never feed you pretend vegetarian fake meat shit." Yeah, that was good! But what Joss was stirring around in her bowl wasn't good…peanut butter? In stew? Tig was making a face just watching her. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Well," she sighed. "I need protein in here somehow, it's a vegetable and mushroom broth, and I put the meatballs in yours, but—"

"Peanut butter?" Tig was still making a face, how disgusting and…somehow eerie…that was like some fucked up Halloween witches brew…fuck, there was no way that could taste good…and peanut butter in the stew thickened it and lightened the color until it looked like a bowl of puke…fuck no…puke stew…Joss went from dick shrinking chili to puke stew…Tig didn't have to eat it, but he wasn't going to sit here across from it either! Besides, he still had to get her back for that hellacious pretend turkey! "No, you're not eating that," he told her and was reaching over and taking her bowl away, then standing up.

"Tig!" Joss protested, but knew better than to actually try to stop him, or did she? She'd tried to reach out with her right hand and grab her bowl back, but she'd winced and pulled back…huh…she must've done a little more in her fall than just get whacked in the face. Damn…he hated it when she fucking lied to him about whether she was hurt or sick…and if she was, puke stew wasn't going to help! She seemed okay now, but something on her right side was off…Tig would be keeping an eye on that now, just like Joss was keeping an eye on him as he dumped the puke stew into the sink. "I was actually looking forward to seeing if that was any good!" She moped. "I just kind of had this yen that it might be, particularly with some hot sauce! Kinda like a Thai influence sorta thing." she insisted as she watched him setting her plate in the sink.

"I don't care, Joss." He hit the disposal button and permanently got rid of the offending concoction in Joss's bowl, opening the cabinet and getting another plate out for her, "I've walked in shit that looked like that, but I never thought I'd see anybody eat it!" Tig watched the last chunks of horribleness disappear then turned back to her, she wasn't sitting exactly level in her chair, kind of hunched over to the right...fuck, so how bad was she hurt, really? "You come by the garage today, with blood all over you, and I can tell something's hurting you on your right side as well, even though you won't tell me about it, and fucking peanut butter isn't going to cut it!" She was going to eat right tonight, God damn it! Whether she liked it or not! Tig opened the crock pot and ladled a generous helping of the stew that had the meatballs in it into the bowl and then placed it in front of Joss. "You'll eat what I eat until you're better because I'm not coming this far with you to fucking lose you now!"

Joss stared at the bowl he'd put in front of her, sallow faced and sullen. "Protein's protein, you know." She said, not looking at him, but staring at the meatballs in her stew. "And you're acting like I have some savage injury, which I don't."

"You're acting like you have a choice," he sighed as he took his seat again, "Which you don't." Now she was cradling her right side with her hand, her secret was out, so why not try to comfort herself? "I wanna know what the hell happened to you, besides your face."

"Tig!" She whined and twisted in her chair as much as she could, obviously mad about the meatballs and about having to 'fess up. "I don't really know what happened, okay? Sam reared up, hit me in the face with his neck, and I went sliding down his back, but I must have gotten turned at some odd angle in doing so, because I have a pulled muscle in my abdomen now, and it's very fresh, so yeah, it's bothering me." Joss rolled her eyes and sighed, then looked across at him. "Satisfied?"

"No, I'm not!" He barked back, but his tone had nothing to do with her attitude…shit, what he had gotten her into with this horse? By his own admission, he'd wanted to find her a crazy one…but not a dangerous one! Maybe this horse thing wasn't such a—

"No!" Joss's voice suddenly cut right into his thoughts, and she was shaking her head fervently. "I know what you're about to say, and I'm telling you before you do that if you get rid of that horse, wherever he goes, I'll steal him back!" She promised; so much spiteful power in her voice that Tig was proud of her and the corners of his mouth pulled into a miniscule smile. "He's mine, Tig! And yeah, it's tough going right now, and it will be for the next few months, but the good ones always make you work the hardest," she told him, then paused and softened her dictating tone. "That's how it was with you, and look what we're sitting on top of now!"

Fuck, she had to go and drag him…them…into this, right where Tig couldn't argue it down? Damn it…she was going to be a hell of a queen! Okay, so he wasn't getting rid of the horse…not yet, anyway…but he reserved the right to do so if the damn thing hurt her again! But Joss didn't have to know that. "Eat!" he ordered her, "and I don't want to hear any shit about how you feel sorry for the cows!" Cows…no! Cows…no! Cows…nmmooooooooooooooooo! God damn it! Fuckin' cows! Of course, that's how all this trouble had started…fuckin' cows…shit! Stop…just stop! That damn girl…what she was doing now…look at her for awhile…she always offset the cows…

And Joss was nodding, but she picked up her fork reluctantly. She'd learned her place well, he'd always been impressed by how well. Maybe she wasn't always happy with everything Tig told her to do, or told her she couldn't do, but Joss always listened to him…she trusted him, and that's exactly the kind of relationship they needed when SAMCRO was his; Joss had to lead every other old lady connected to this club, and she had to set an example of what it meant to belong to a brother, what it meant to be property. Tig wouldn't tolerate any doctor bitch types around his club, they were poison, and if they showed up, if they were appalled by Joss's patch, then they were out, no questions, and no arguments from whoever brought them in. No, Joss would be the new standard for what a brother was expected to find and choose in an old lady…even though Tig knew that no one had an old lady like her…no one. He watched her sadly stabbing at a meatball, trying to smash it into nothing more than she was actually cutting it in half, but he smiled a little at her. "Look, this meat thing's not forever, okay little girl?" He said, "You never tried to change me, so I'm not going to try and change you."

Again she nodded, but didn't perk up any. "I really don't like meat; you know that, don't you?"

"Joss, don't start!" He warned her, and reached over and pushed her bowl closer to her, getting a little frustrated, but then an idea came to him when he looked at her long, elegant finger wrapped around the handle of the fork she held. "I just want you to heal up, baby. Okay?" Joss nodded, and Tig smiled a bit more. He wasn't at all sure what he was getting himself into with this ring stuff…couldn't they just get engagement tattoos? There was so much more room to depict all the things they were that way…but a ring? How the hell did a ring denote anything about what he felt for his dark, sweet, perfect angel? But at least this way, he wasn't exactly losing his ring argument he'd been trying to make earlier. "I'll make you a deal," he told her. "You eat like a normal person, and I won't put some big, nothing rock on your hand!"


	4. Homeopathic

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 4

There was a fucking Vervet monkey on his back again…damn things…they were all over the UN base, and nothing could keep the fuckers out…they were always jumping on everyone, no soldier was safe. Tig often pondered that somewhere off post, was some big ass monkey stash of sunglasses, cigarettes, dog tags, and watches, because that's what the fucking Vervets seemed to always run off with…ambushing everyone who stepped outside and stealing hats, rifling through packs, or just riding along piggy-back, like the little bastard that had its little fingers wrapped over Tig's shoulders now, it's fuzzy head burrowing into his back above the reaper ink…wait…he didn't have the reaper ink in Mogadishu…what the fuck…and then Tig's eyes opened. The room was dark, it was just before four in the morning, and he was sleeping on his left side instead of his right…why? He started to roll over and get things back to the way they should have been, but there was still a fuzzy monkey head in his back…no, that wasn't a monkey head…Joss was up against him, both of her hands holding onto his shoulders, and the rest of her curled against his back, where she'd tucked her head. Fuck…it was okay if she were a little close to him when they fell asleep; Tig was learning not to mind that so much. In fact, he had put his arm around her before they fell asleep tonight…he always had to be the one holding her, not the other way around, he still fucking hated waking up caged in anything, it didn't fucking matter what the fuck it was…but he must've let go of her somewhere along the lines of sleep, and then rolled away from her…but Joss followed him, cuz here she was, clutching onto him and making him have fuckin' monkey dreams! Well…she did go Spider Monkey at times, it was kind of fitting…but Tig wanted the hell out of her little monkey hold, pronto!

"Hey," he looked over his shoulder as much as he could, "Joss," and he nudged her gently with his elbow; she stirred a little, but she didn't wake up, or let go. "Joss!" Tig said louder, and this time pried one of her hands off his shoulder, only to have Joss stir again and then replace her hand and her grip right where Tig had removed it from. Shit…what was with her tonight? Usually if he woke her up because she was freaking him out with whatever she was doing in her sleep, she snapped to immediately, but tonight she was like seriously out! Damn…was she conscious back there? "Josselyn!" Tig said louder than his normal speaking tone, and accompanied it with a heavier nudge of his elbow, swinging his bent arm back towards her ribs with enough force to jar her awake…and this time he did jar her awake…and she let go of him immediately, but was making this horrible, continuously sucking in air kind of sound, like she'd stepped into an ice cold shower, and then finally she groaned and rolled away from him, not saying anything…because she couldn't. Fuck! He'd forgotten all about her fall from the shithole horse…and her banged up face! What did he just do to the poor girl? God fucking damn it…Tig sat bolt upright and turned towards Joss, immediately steadying her and stopping her from rolling and thrashing with his hands. "I am so sorry, baby…" he groaned and grimaced and wished like hell that he could take that forceful elbow nudge back. "Shit, you okay? I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah," Joss tried to answer, but she scarcely had a voice, clutching her right side with both hands, her eyes squeezed shut in agony and her body stiff against the pain that was now boiling over inside her. Fuck. Fuck! What the hell had he done to her? Whether he'd meant to or not, Tig put her where she was…he put that misery on her beautiful face with one swing of his fucking elbow…fuckin' Vervet monkeys…shit…if Opie were here to see this, he'd be kicking Tig's stupid, selfish ass all over the room…and right now, Tig wouldn't have objected to it either…damn…okay, she was coming out of it now…she took a deep breath…it couldn't have been anything really bad, right? Joss's green eyes opened finally and Tig swore he could see the pain still hot within them even though the room was dark. "Sorry," she said to him, trying to catch her breath now, and she was still clutching her side.

"Joss, no—" but Tig was still so flustered he couldn't even get all the words out, had to take a breath himself…but she was talking…talking was good! "Jesus fucking Christ, Joss, you're not the one that has to be sorry," he managed to get out, reaching down and stroking his hand over her head, his other hand laying gently a top of hers that covered her right side. "Stay here, I gotta get you some aspirin or some—"

"No," Joss shook her head and smiled a little bit, but mostly, she was still trying to will away the pain. "You remember the last time you gave me an 'aspirin?'" She reminded him…oh yeah…Tig should have known that bottle of aspirin he'd found in his former dorm and boxed up and moved to the new house was suspicious…why the hell would he have bought a bottle of aspirin…that's not the kind of thing he'd usually do. But when Joss woke up one rainy morning with a sinus headache, Tig had remembered that bottle of aspirins…which turned out to be Peace Pills…he'd unknowingly gave Joss a dose of PCP before he left for work…but it was very apparent when he came home, since she was outside…vacuuming the front yard! But that's why he'd kept that bottle of aspirins! A Peace Pill dissolved in some water, or better yet, a little ether, was great to dip a cigarette in…awesome smoke, but Joss on PCP…not so great; and it about wore Tig out too, trying to keep her calm and keep her cooled down, and having to chase around those fucking cabbages that kept rolling down the wall at her all night…Joss was vegetarian, he figured they were like PCP inspired "ghost cabbages" coming back to haunt her. Whatever, Joss was right not to trust him with the medications anymore…but he had to do something, she seemed to be losing ground again, sucking in another rapid breath and her features twisted in new torment. "Hey, can you help me sit up for a minute?" She managed to say between clenched teeth.

Fuck! Without even thinking about where to touch her, Tig grabbed one of her shoulders and slipped his arm around her back, sitting her up and holding her up as he moved behind her, to let Joss lean against him…shit, what did he do to her? She wasn't hurting this much at dinner, or when they went to sleep, and panic was beginning to set in. "You okay? Talk to me!"

"Yeah," and he could feel Joss relax against him a little now as she drew a soothing breath. "I think it was just a muscle spasm or something that time," she explained, and put more of her weight against him, snuggled in a little, which made Tig wrap his arms around her even more as she gradually began to uncover her right side. "I guess I need to watch sudden movements until this damn thing heals," she sighed, looking up at him, but there was nothing critical in her voice or in her expression…God damn it, she was too fucking perfect! Tig was about to apologize again, and again, and again after that, but Joss spoke before he had the chance to. "What was I doing that woke you up?"

Tig shook his head and pressed a kiss to her long, silky, jet hair. "Don't worry about it, just know I'm a stupid asshole for shoving you in the ribs and that I didn't mean to hurt you, okay?" He sighed and carefully pulled Joss back against him more. "Damn it, I wish I was better at this, little girl! I really fucking do!"

"Stop," Joss for some reason told him tenderly, like she was more concerned with Tig's words hurting him than she was that he'd caused her so much physical torture. "And I'm guessing I was hanging on you again. Sorry, I know you don't like that." She continued, and turned her head in towards his neck, her eyelashes doing that barely perceptible little flutter against his skin that drove Tig crazy, but he was trying to ignore it…but she was right, the lightest of touches did do a lot for him! "I'm not feeling too good from my wreck today, and I guess I…just want to be close to you. Being close to you always makes me feel better, so I guess that's why I've been 'chasing' you across the bed tonight." Joss explained, and Tig felt her eyes close and body settle. "Again, sorry; I didn't mean it, and neither did you."

Tig grunted in protest, he had to suffer something for doing this…shit, she didn't feel good, and she was looking to her old man for comfort…and he'd elbowed her in the very area that was responsible for her not feeling good? This need of Joss's was as basic and primal as it could get; she was injured and she was seeking the protection of her physically stronger mate…Tig loved that! But, her physically stronger mate had made things worse…shit…fuck…and he was supposed to protect her? Nice one, Trager! "Yeah? Well I'm a lot bigger than you, and I gotta get my fucking head sorted out before I hur—"

"You're not going to hurt me," Joss interjected. "Get that into your 'fucking head.'"

She of course was right…his sweet, dark, angel was perfect after all. "Yeah," he finally agreed, nodding his head, and he knew he could never hurt Joss, couldn't if he wanted to. He kissed her hair again, "How you feeling now?"

"Better," she said. "But it's going to hurt for awhile, so don't freak out on me if you see me wincing or doubled over now and then, it's okay." Joss said calmly then looked up at him again. "Alright?"

"You hurting now?" Tig asked, because he couldn't promise that he wasn't going to get concerned…maybe not freak out, but if Joss started gasping for breath and clutched her side like she'd just done, he was likely to get very concerned…okay, no, he'd just freak the hell out…that's what he'd do, he had to admit that.

"It's better," Joss insisted, then reached for the pillow at her left. "I'll just sleep sitting up, that's all."

"No, you need meds!" Tig insisted back, and was already pulling away from her a little to go check their medicine cabinet…and he knew which bottle to avoid this time! "I think there's some oxy around here somewhere…"

"No," Joss still shook her head and leaned back into him some more, making him have to stay there and support her. "Please Tig, I've had a lot of shit forced down my throat and in my veins over the years, and I really don't like taking anything now, I don't care what it's for."

"You're just going to sit over there, trying to sleep, and be in pain all night?" Tig asked disapprovingly. "You trying to make me feel even worse?" He smiled a bit at her, but he did sort of want to know…even though Joss wasn't into passive aggression…she wasn't aggressive at all, at least she wasn't until those eyes glowed eerily green, and she started screeching and wailing…and then…look out! "C'mon baby, let me try to help you a little?" He asked…well, okay, more like he begged.

"Yeah," and Joss turned her face back into his neck, closing and reopening her eyes enough to send that gossamer flutter of feathers on the wind against his skin and into his blood, where it combusted and burned and rendered every other sense alert and hungry. "You could help me alleviate the pain by getting some endorphins flowing…"

Chapter 4; Part 2

She was different tonight…of course everything they did was different tonight, because Tig was being really fucking careful that he didn't hurt her again. He hated slow and gentle, but this was for Joss, and she was hurting, and he really did want to help her feel better…but she was…hmm…she was…touching him…a lot, with every part of her body she could manage to do it with. But it was more than only how her hands and legs and mouth and every other part of her seemed to need contact with every part of him; she felt different. Yeah, she was hurt and there was a little tension on her right side, but Tig barely noticed that. To keep himself in check, but give her what she needed, he wasn't hammering her like he normally did, but was rotating his hips against hers in slow, but deeply penetrating, circles that made him all of a sudden understand where the term "screwing" came from. This should have been boring, and he should have been counting down her orgasms…give her two, and then he could stop and just jerk off…but that wasn't the case at all. She felt…different!

For as big and hard as his cock was, it had slipped right in, Joss was more wet than she usually was, and seemed to be more responsive too; every time he moved, she wrapped up around him as much as he'd let her and sighed his name, spreading her legs wider, opening her hips more, inviting him deeper and deeper until she had everything but his balls jammed inside her. She'd always been snug, but given Tig's size, that was no surprise; he'd always loved her sweet, little cooch, it drew up around his big dick like a drawstring pouch, and now was no different…except that it was…her pussy was as soft and smooth, and as much like liquid velvet as it always was, but it also felt warmer and…fuller…though Tig wasn't sure he could explain that. Her slick, luscious sheath seemed almost like it was molding to the shape and size of his cock, like it was trying to compress it inside her, but Joss wasn't physically doing anything to give him that sensation. Maybe her muscles were just jolted from that fall off of the horse?

That made sense…there was tension and pain and stiffness in her right side, so why wouldn't the rest of her body be compensating? But was that all of it? Because Joss was really needing him tonight…but it wasn't purely in a sexual way. It was like she just had to be touching him, like she couldn't get close enough to him, like he couldn't be deep enough inside her, despite how big he was. She lay beneath him moving as much as she could, which wasn't much as far as her hips went, but she was pressing her upper body closer and closer to his, rubbing her hard nipples against his chest and holding tightly onto his arms and trying to pull him closer whenever he'd push himself away from her to deepen the penetration. She always had loved to touch him and be close to him and stroke and rub and feel every inch of his six foot two inch frame, but this was that times like a thousand!

It was outstanding though…had the big bulbous head of his cock throbbing away deep inside her, challenging his resolve as familiar vibrations threatened to build in his balls and spill down his long, thick shaft, making him half to stop and actually withdraw from her, squeezing the head of his dick hard enough to deaden it to the call of cumming…he would, he definitely would even though he didn't expect to this way, but he owed Joss one more climax, the first one apparently was effective, because she'd been moving a little more and there was no sign of pain from her…damn…endorphins worked! Or, maybe it was just him? Yeah…it was just him…big dick and a lotta fire power! If it wasn't him, why was Joss trying to climb all over him while he fucked her? Hmm…why'd she need two orgasms? Well, it just seemed to make sense…everyone took two aspirins and stuff like that when they didn't feel good. Feel good…yeah, she did feel good…her pussy felt amazing, and so did the way she kept pushing her body against his…she needed him, and he was there for her! As long as he didn't cum…not yet…but fuck, the soft, lush, heat of her pussy, the way she kept saying his name, the way she wanted every part of him against every part of her…this girl so desperately wanted to be his tonight…it wasn't easy to keep staving off the spasms and vigorously building gush of his cum!

"Tig," Joss could barely even speak, but he of course recognized his name as it left her parted lips on her heavy breath, "please," she was quietly pleading, her fingers gripping his shoulders and wanting so badly to go beyond them…damn she was crazy with this touchy-feely stuff tonight, like addicted to how his skin felt against hers…oh…oh yeah…being close to him made her feel better, she sought safety and protection in the arms of her stronger mate. How could he deny her that?

"Yeah," he nodded his consent back to her, fighting to keep the slow, deep, round rhythm he could feel Joss winding up another climax to, her using the feel of not just his big dick, but the feel of his body against hers as a whole to rev herself up, but Tig was already revved up…was trembling above her in his fight to keep doing what he did for her, until he knew she'd cum, until he knew he'd been man enough for her to soothe all her ailments. Joss's arms were around him now, holding tightly, forcing him to have to lay directly upon her, Tig for a moment concerned about crushing her, he was a lot heavier than she was, and he was particularly mindful of that stomach muscle, but Joss was moaning so sweetly and so needful, trying so hard to just…get as much of herself against him as she possibly could while he stirred her ever closer to her end. "Cum, baby," he whispered, not sure how much longer he could make himself wait, cock as hard as a gun barrel, balls tight, and Tig feeling like he was about to explode deep inside her or shatter above her.

Joss's body was rigid beneath his own, her arms around his back pulling him closer and closer, whimpering his name as she kept trying to find some bit of contact she was yet to experience, her arms pressing more and more over the reaper ink below his shoulder blades, one of her hands on the back of his head, legs clasped around his waist and squeezing enough to allow her to push her hips into his…but it still wasn't enough for her. "Please," she was begging on sweet, strained breaths, "please," again and again, until finally, Tig, submerged in his own orgasmic torture, understood.

He slid his hands between her back and mattress, taking her in his own arms and holding her tightly, his body fully upon hers, all his weight against her now that not even his elbows supported him, but Joss was loving every moment of it, her moans and sighs increasing, her sweet sheath getting tighter around his big, throbbing cock, and when finally she'd moved upwards against him and held him tighter, Tig felt her heart thundering against his own…and that was it, the closeness Joss sought, and she finally broke, shaking from head to toe beneath him, clamoring to hold him as her drenching, sumptuous channel closed firmly around his thick, pulsating eight inches in powerful, slow contractions, milking his shaft and seemed to pull the cum right out of his balls; Tig unable to move, but could only lay against her, wrapped in her arms, just as Joss was in his, and let the feel of her body beneath his, and the pounding of her heart only inches away from his own take over and make him cum, surprisingly hard for so gentle and refined a fuck.

She felt melded to him as they both lay trying to collect their breath, and her arms protested him trying to take his weight off of her, but Tig knew how much heavier he was than her, and even if the endorphin rush had killed the pain she was in, he couldn't keep laying above her like that…even if it did feel good…why was unimaginable, Joss was kinda bony here and there, but not in the right places…but still, if he didn't get up, he was going to mash her. But she tried to keep him where he was, though her strength was all but gone now…shit…she was all about being close tonight! "Joss," Tig managed to whisper, and got his elbows under him again. "C'mon," and pushed back against her closed arms again, but Joss only sat up a little and kissed him, both of her lips on his, her tongue rushing to meet his and share a last moment of oneness with him before she finally let go of him.

"Ow!" She suddenly howled softly and then laughed as they pulled away from each other, and she held her hand over her upper lip as Tig rolled off of her. "I forgot." She laughed, her voice muffled by the fingers over her mouth.

Tig chuckled and shook his head at her…he'd never thought he'd look at a girl and think about how damn cute she was, and then like that she was. "You okay, otherwise?" He asked as he laid down next her, putting his arm around her and pulling her close…because she was going to be snugged up to him at some point anyway tonight, that was obvious.

Joss smiled as she laid her head on his chest, draping her arm across his waist. "Yeah, I feel pretty good now, actually!"

"Damn right, you do!" Tig replied proudly. "That was some great work I just did!" He told her, and Joss laughed, but pressed a kiss to his chest softly. "So, can I sleep now?"

"Oh, you are so put upon…" Joss answered, laughing a little as she shook her head, and was drawing those little designs on his chest again with her finger that Tig never understood.

Again Tig chuckled, but really, she could put that on him any time she wanted! He looked down at her though, feeling now that her other arm was behind his neck…she was still very in need of being close to him…and now it was starting to make him wonder…Joss suffered from Post Traumatic Stress every bit as much as he did, the only difference was that he'd been diagnosed, she hadn't been, but he could see it so clearly in her when she was scared, or nervous, or upset…and clinging to whatever made her feel safe was one of those tell tale signs. "Hey," he said casually and stroked his hand over her hair, not wanting to add to any stress she might be feeling, but wanting to know what it was nonetheless. "You're okay, right?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, like she didn't know what he was talking about. "You don't need to keep asking me that."

"Alright," he nodded, but the girl was still plastered to him…nope, she wasn't okay…he just knew it, something had happened, and maybe Joss didn't realize it just yet, but Tig had years of experience at picking this shit up. "You're on me a whole lot all of a sudden, you know," he said, but had tried so hard not to sound like he hated it…and he didn't hate it…well, not all of the time, anyway…fuck, he hated it…he only liked it when it was his idea to begin with…but, he was being tolerant…which sucked ass. "You wanna talk?"

"About what?" Joss turned her neck and looked up at him with a creased brow. "Tig, I'm fine. I'm just a little sore, and I want to be with you, that's all."

"Okay," he nodded again, but no, there was more to this than that…Joss was still repressing it…but eventually, it was going to surface. Fuck…but if she didn't know what it was yet, then all Tig could do was be there when she found out…fuck…he hated waiting…and being there for her! But he loved her…he loved her so fucking much…that damn girl! "Alright, put your head back down and go to sleep," he instructed her, half sighing as he did, and pressed her head against his chest as she turned her face away from and snuggled in again. Wait…that's all he'd be able to do…wait, and be the safety and protection he understood she needed. He could be that, he was that! He stroked her hair and skimmed his thumb over the soft fairness of her cheek…he'd keep her safe, he'd make it alright. "Tell me you love me; I know that makes you feel better too."


	5. Dirty Words

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 5

Joss could barely contain her excitement, and because she couldn't she was calling Tig now instead of waiting until she figured he'd be at lunch. She hoped he wasn't too busy, if his hands were all black and greasy and he had to pull them out of a transmission to answer his phone, he was going to be pissed! Well, at least he'd be pissed at first…and then when she told him why she was calling, he'd be as thrilled as she was. But maybe he was too busy to answer; his voicemail would click on any time now. Damn…she really didn't want to leave him a message, not about this!

"Hey," Suddenly Tig's voice broke over the line and it was obvious that he was holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as his hands continued to toil with a vehicle of some sort. "Whattya want, little girl? I'm working!"

Joss smiled, not only was she abundantly happy, but Tig, though busy, didn't sound pissed off at all. Had he been really engrossed in something, he'd likely have just blew her call off anyway and called her back when he got the chance…but no…hmm…likely because he was still so certain that something was wrong with her, but nothing was wrong…except for a little lingering soreness in her right side, but either it was getting better, or Joss was getting used to it. Whatever, she had Tig on the phone now, and she couldn't suppress her smile, or her delight. "I want you to make a decent woman out of me!" She replied laughing.

"What?" He answered, and Joss laughed again, knowing well the screwed up face Tig was making right now. "Hold on," he said and for a moment there was the sound of static and muffled movements as Tig wiped his hands off enough to hold his phone normally and then stepped outside the garage a bit. "Why the fuck you want that, Joss? Things are good the way they are." And now she could hear the smirk on his face too.

Joss cleared her throat objectionably, but then laughed. "Yeah? Well, despite that," she began and Tig was laughing now too. She looked down at the certificate on the table and her smile grew even more. "I just got the mail, and our marriage license has finally arrived!"

Tig was quiet for a second. "No shit!" He responded, and Joss instinctively began to shake her head, but before she could answer verbally, he let out a resounding celebratory "Yessssss!" making Joss laugh some more. "Alright, baby! I guess now we tell Clay and Gemma and make this thing happen!"

Oh…oh yeah…that sucked the happiness right out of Joss. "Huh, I guess we do have to tell Gemma, don't we?" Shit…and she thought the wedding planning was out of control before? What the hell was it going to be like now that the license was here, and a date could be set? Oh God…just the thought of that was nauseating…or was that just her pulled oblique kicking up again?

"Joss, you okay?" Tig asked suddenly…damn it…now she'd gone and set off his suspicions again, too! He'd been insisting something was wrong for two days now! It didn't help that the hit she'd taken to the face had blackened both her eyes, not severely, but there were noticeable shadows of purple at each inner corner of both her eyes, and it had upset her enough to start moping about being a raccoon…which Tig obviously thought was funny…on her pillow this morning when she'd woke up, Tig had put a handful of the animal crackers Joss bought exclusively for the little fuzzy, ring tailed, mask wearing bandits that visited nightly on their patio. But if he wasn't giving her raccoon crackers, and warning her to stay out of the garbage cans, he was taking her under the chin and looking her eyes over and sighing, and then asking her if she was "okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," she quickly replied, but sighed and hesitated to tell Tig the truth…but he was the only one she could tell, and once she started, she nearly couldn't stop. "I'm just not looking forward to all the wedding shit to come with Gemma. Yes, I know it's awful that I'm saying this! I feel terrible, but I just can't do it anymore, Tig!" Joss sighed again and gave Tig a chance to jump in and berate her for being so ungrateful, but to her surprise, he was silently listening. "It's pointless to even involve me and make me waste my life at her dining room table talking about this wedding and hearing all her suggestions, because no matter what I want or how I feel about it, Gemma's going to do it the way she thinks it should be done…and she's driving me crazy!"

"Fuck little girl, maybe she really is your mother!" Tig remarked, but he sounded like he actually understood…huh, maybe he was getting his own earful from Gemma at work concerning wedding shit? Maybe that's why his presence was never requested at the dining room table? Tig sighed himself too. "And I still haven't got a ring for you…" he added, sounding as ill minded as Joss now was. This was so unfair! Why couldn't they just be happy without having to worry about unnecessary formalities that neither one of them even wanted? Joss only needed two things at their wedding, Tig and someone to pronounce them man and wife! "Hey," Tig said again, and Joss could hear that he was walking even further away from the garage, and his voice was a little hushed. "Fuck the wedding, let's just do this!"

"Really?" Her smile returned, so was some of her enthusiasm. "We can do that?"

"You've already got the consent of your legal guardians, I'm willing, you're willing…" Tig pretended to think for a moment. "Yeah, I think we can, baby!" He chuckled.

Joss laughed with giddy joy…why didn't she think of going to Tig with her Gemma issues sooner? He was her man; of course he'd take care of her! "I love you!" It wasn't what she'd intended to say, but it just popped out, but the timing was perfect, and she could feel Tig sort of 'nuzzling' up to her words from the other end of the phone. "When?"

Tig seemed to be scouting out the area around him for anyone who may have been within ear shot. "Alright, you start looking at wedding chapels and shit around Charming, you find one that can do it tonight, call me back and I'll see if I can get outta here a little early. We good?"

"Yeah," Joss smiled, and she couldn't believe she'd be getting married...tonight if possible! This was amazing! Wow! She could go to bed tonight as Mrs. Josselyn Morrow-Trager! Yeah…and then she'd wake up Mrs. Josselyn Morrow-Trager with raccoon eyes! Stupid horse! Damn it…she would be the black eyed bride! Oh God…what if she did find a wedding chapel who could marry them tonight, and there she'd be, this seventeen year old waif, all alone, except for the big, mean biker she was standing beside…with her two black eyes…yeah, there was only one way whomever was marrying them was going to construe that whole scene! Jesus…any civilian presented with that picture might be calling the police! Damn it! "Tig," she said, and wished she wasn't about to say what she was going to say. "Maybe not tonight."

He was making that screwed up face again, she could tell. "Why the fuck not?"

"Because I'm so beat up looking!" Joss answered forlornly. "You think some paid-by-the-hour bible jockey would believe me when I say a horse hit me in the face and not the forty-two year old one percent-er that owns me? I don't want anyone thinking that about you, baby!"

"Joss, fuck what other people think!" Tig replied boldly and loudly. "Put some make-up over it! C'mon, let's do this!"

"I want to!" Joss said, and closed her eyes and actually shook with how much she wanted to…and wow would this surprise the hell out of Gemma, too! Yeah…Gemma…fuck! "I love you, Tig! I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything!"

"But?" He cut in before she could continue, and now he sounded sort of pissed.

"No, don't do that, please!" She immediately replied, her strength suddenly too sapped to have to argue with Tig over whether or not she really wanted this. "You're everything to me, and you know you are, I need you to breathe! But, we're both forgetting one thing here…" Joss sighed, and hated to be backing down for this reason, but it was a good one! "What happens when Gemma finds out we eloped?"

Chapter 5; Part 2

"No, I'm not gettin' you another fuckin' watermelon!" What the fuck was Happy talking about? It was obvious that he was on the phone, standing outside the garage like Tig had been doing talking to Joss, and Tig's conversation with Joss had been so intense, he hadn't even noticed that Happy had come out here. But he had, and it looked like whatever conversation he was having, it was going to end in much the same way Tig's had with Joss. Happy looked up and acknowledged Tig with a nod and rolled his eyes, turning back to his phone conversation. "Did you not hear the doctor yesterday? He said you're retaining too many fluids, you keep complaining about your ankles being swollen, and you don't think that maybe 'water' melon could be why in both those cases?"

Oh, yeah…Slinky-Slinky-bitch was what…six, seven months knocked up now? Whatever she was, it was really freaking Hap out and Tig was always who he went to with it…but then, Tig had started that ball rolling…God damn it! It wasn't that Tig didn't want to help his boy, and yeah, he'd done his time with an expectant wife, twice…but really…babies, kids…no, not Tig's thing. And the whole pregnancy thing was way creepy in a parasitic sort of way too…but fuck…Hap had that look on his face as he hung up the phone with Slinky-Slinky-bitch…he needed to talk…oh shit…Tig was far from done wallowing in his marital strife…well, not true marital strife per se, he was trying to find a way to get married that would spare Joss from losing her mind that would also ultimately not lead to Gemma disowning them both…with a fork. What? Disown them with a fork? What the fuck kinda sense did that make? Whatever, there had to be a way to marry Joss, not have a wedding, and make Gemma happy all at the same time!

"I'm not going to make it, man!" Happy sighed, shaking his head at Tig and sliding his phone back into his pocket. "She's addicted to pizza with extra sauce, then whines about heartburn all night. She pukes her guts up until about two every day, and then wants me to hold her and kiss her. Her tits are bigger than they've ever been, but she won't let me touch 'em…" Happy continued shaking his head. "I can't take it anymore."

Tig shuddered and shivered and felt all the alarm bells and whistles going off inside him as if he were surrounded by dolls. He fucking hated talking about this! But…he had to…the club was his one day. "It's a bitch," he said sympathetically, and tried so hard not to cringe. "But it's not forever; you're more than half way there, man. It'll go faster than you think."

"Will it?" Happy asked, like he had to be reassured. "I've done a lotta shit, I ain't backed down from anything," he said, looking at Tig seriously. "But this…watching Lauren go through this…it's killing me!"

Hmm…maybe this wasn't what Tig thought it was. "She doing okay?" He asked, afraid that maybe Happy had a real reason to be wuss-ing out so badly.

"Preeclampsia," Happy sighed. "Doctor told her she can't work anymore, she's gotta stay in bed. Her blood pressure's raging out of control, and there was something about proteins in her urine—"

"Alright man," Tig interjected, but placed his hand on Hap's shoulder supportively. "She's your old lady, I ain't gotta hear about her 'urine.'" Urine…ur-ine…ick…that was one of the few actually dirty sounding "dirty words"…wait, was "urine" a dirty word? It sounded like it should be…urine…yer-inn…yeah, that word had stink stuck all over it…it had to be a dirty word. But then "uvula" sounded like that should be a dirty word too, but it wasn't…he'd looked it up to be sure one day…it was hella disgusting, but it wasn't a dirty word. Fuck, what was going on with Hap's old lady crisis again? Oh yeah..."You gotta go with it, man. You got no other choice." Tig told him, and he could feel himself starting to make sense again, though he had no idea how he managed to do that. "You gotta be there for her if you love her, and you gotta be there for that kid too! So don't wear yourself out trying to fight shit you have no control over."

"Yeah," Hap sighed again then nodded a little and looked up at Tig. "This is why Clay picked you, man." He said. "Club's in good hands, bro!" And before Tig could react, Happy gave him a respectful jab in the arm with his fist, and walked back into the garage. Fuck…that was the first time anyone had acknowledged Tig as the next president out loud! Shit! His wedding plans for the night had tanked, but now he was pumped up again! Joss! He had to call her and tell her what Hap just said! Oh, and she'd probably like to know about Slinky-Slinky-bitch too…but mostly, Hap had just said out loud what everyone else knew anyway…cool as shit, man! Everything really was happening! Tig grabbed his phone and selected Joss's number, just about to hit the "call" button when he heard footsteps behind him…high heeled footsteps…shit…Joss had gone and called Gemma about the marriage license…yeah, both he and Joss had decided they had to let her know about it finally arriving, but Tig didn't think Joss would tell her this fucking soon! God damn it…he was probably to get grilled about a ring now! He loved Gemma, but when she wasn't happy about something…it was hell!

"Hey Tigger," Gemma purred as she stepped up beside him smiling, and Tig relaxed a little. She was happy, maybe she wasn't going to jump on him about the ring after all. "I need Joss tonight around seven o'clock," she said, and Tig's heart sank a little for his poor, sweet, wedding-sickened, angel, but then Gemma extended the misery like he'd never expected she would do. She smiled at him more and patted his shoulder. "And this time, I need you too!"


	6. Forever Hold Your Peace

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 6

Catatonia was such a stupid fucking thing…one minute everything was happening around him and he couldn't get away from it, no matter how much Tig really wanted to, and just when he was about to give it all up and destroy everything and everyone within sight – boom – he was his very own prison, encased in stone, frozen in time, plugged into the world, but no longer connected to it. But those fucking states never happened when he really wanted them to! Cuz he was dying for one now…sitting here with his head down on Gemma's dining room table, probably getting wood grain marks on his forehead, trying to convince himself that he wasn't really here, that he was somehow actually part of the table, trying to channel the tree it was made from…but no matter what he tried, Gemma just kept on asking him things…and expecting an answer. The preposterousness of his posture was being ignored, and that fucking sucked!

Joss was right; this wedding shit was mind numbingly…shitty! But, it could have been worse, Tig could have been the only man at the table, but luckily he wasn't. In addition to impersonating Elvis, Bobby had the misfortune of being ordained, and he'd be officiating the wedding. Okay, that was cool, Tig was behind that, and so was Joss, Joss fucking loved Bobby, and it was good to know there was at least one of Gemma's suggestions that made Joss happy. And Bobby was happy too, cuz he fucking loved Joss too, and kept going on now about what a beautiful bride she was going to be, and how lucky Tig was to have her. Bobby also made Joss promise to give him at least one dance at the reception, which was fine with Tig, cuz he wasn't fuckin' dancing! Then Bobby said he'd probably be crying at the wedding…Jesus fucking Christ…why didn't the old Jew just burst into "Sunrise, Sunset" and get it over with?

Bobby sat at the end of the table, Gemma and Joss on one side and Tig on the other, completely slumped over and trying so hard to be somewhere else, but he wasn't…he was here…and apparently he was getting married in two weeks too. Fuck…he and Joss could've been doing that right now…and then there wouldn't have been a need for any of this planning shit…but Joss was right, if Gemma found out that her "only daughter" ran off and got married, Gemma would be a string of things from deplorably hurt ax murderer crazy. Two weeks…Bobby would say the magic words…in a fucking gazebo. God fucking damn it…omitting the Bobby part, this was a stupid, fucking hell to be in!

Gemma was talking again, and Tig, as he'd been doing all night, peered at her through the tiniest, darkest of cracks between his elbow and the table top. She had like a bazillion notes in a little white wedding planning notebook, and she was looking to add more to it. Fuck, how much more could there be? "I think there'll be enough room in the gazebo itself for Bobby, you, Tig and your maid of honor and Tig's best man," Gemma was saying, tapping a pencil to her temple as she contemplated the wedding party to Joss, and then she gave Joss an ordering kind of look. "You need to pick a maid of honor, soon! Have anyone in mind?"

Joss actually seemed like she had an answer, but the name that formed on her lips jolted Tig so much he'd actually lifted his head up for a moment. "Tar—" but then Joss cut herself off…fuck…no, she wasn't still hung up on doctor bitch, was she? C'mon baby, pull up, pull up…Joss was about to crash with this doctor bitch shit! "Sorry," Joss kind of cleared her throat and excused herself, and now she looked sad…fuck…why'd she have to look sad…Tig was in no state to see her looking disappointed and hurt…but— "I guess it's been ingrained in my mind that if I got married, Tara would be there," Joss's shoulders stooped forward for a moment and she sighed heavily as Gemma nodded sympathetically and smoothed Joss's hair out of her face…oh this sucked…Tig should do something to, he was marrying that damn girl after all…but he was a frozen heap on the table that felt like he'd blow his ridiculous cover if he moved or spoke…but poor Joss…she'd said before that she used to think she'd have a very close relationship with both Jax, and Jax's doctor bitch, but doctor bitch had sold her out and then skipped out on her, and that had broken Joss's heart in a way that Tig knew he couldn't fix…fucking doctor bitch…the worthless cunt!

"Hey, it's her loss, sweetheart!" Assured Bobby, giving Joss his shoulder to cry on or lean on the way Tig should have been…fuck…

"Yeah," Tig managed to push out, lifting his elbow off of the table just enough to let the word make it out into the open, then closed the 'door' again…there…he'd been supportive…he'd said…something.

But Gemma was none too impressed with Tig's participation and was eyeing him now, clearing her throat. "Okay Tigger, who's your best man?" She demanded to know, like some schoolmarm calling on the kid that was paying the least attention in class.

God damn it…Tig couldn't hide anymore, there wasn't a point to it now. He lifted his head and sat most of the way up, but not all of the way, still sprawled across the table. But he'd show Gemma…he had an answer to this! "Clay."

Bobby nodded like that was no surprise and there wasn't any trouble, but Gemma was completely the opposite. "Uh-uh," She was shaking her head. What the fuck? Really? How the fuck did Tig get that answer wrong? "Clay's giving away the bride," she explained and Tig made a face, and he even saw Joss looking subtly annoyed in Gemma's direction. "Clay can't walk Joss down the aisle, hand her off to you, and then step across the aisle to stand beside you and make with the rings when the time comes."

"Why not?" Tig was wondering the same thing, but he hadn't been the one that had spoken. Joss, his beautiful, sweet, dark, perfect angel was over there next to Gemma, sticking up for her man…and managing to sound more innocently confused than she was getting ticked off about it…but Joss was getting ticked off about all of this; the black Egyptian princess eyeliner was slightly squinting around those beautifully piercing peridot eyes and Tig could feel those hostile vibrations in the air around her…hmm…the spider monkey wasn't rising, was it?

"Because," Gemma replied superiorly. "It'll look chintzy, and that's not how we're doing this."

But Joss wasn't backing down. "But," she still sounded like a misdirected kid asking an innocent question, but sooner or later, Joss wasn't going to be able to hide her frustrations and Gemma was going be able to see it. "Clay means a lot to both Tig and I! I think that would represent that perfectly!"

"Well," again Bobby was sticking his neck out where Tig's should have been…but it was Gemma…and it was so hard to go against her…she'd always had Tig wrapped around her little finger. "How about if Clay's Tig's best man and I walk Joss down the aisle?" He suggested and smiled at Joss again. "It would be my pleasure."

"You're performing the ceremony!" Gemma reminded Bobby exasperatedly before Joss could even settle into that idea and smile back at Bobby. Gemma threw her hands up and exhaled sharply, giving everyone around her a level, 'don't mess with me' stare. "Tig, you have to pick a best man before the wedding rehearsal in the next thirteen days, and it can' t be Clay and it can't be Bobby!" She heatedly explained, then turned to Joss. "And you, same thing, only maid of honor and—" but Gemma paused a moment and suddenly became compassionate. "I'm afraid Tara's out, honey."

Joss nodded but didn't seem to be getting so stuck on the doctor bitch thing…good…at least something was beginning to go right. "Juice's Lauren then," she said to Gemma, who immediately began writing in the little, white, wedding planner. "I guess it's sort of a lucky break that Happy's Lauren is confined to bed, because you'd likely kill me if I told you I wanted to have two maid's of honor, huh?" Joss smiled, laughed a little…oh but there was a spider monkey in there…maybe not about to come screeching and wailing to the surface, but Gemma was prodding the little beast into beating its little chest…

"Okay," Gemma sighed contently, ignoring Joss's comment, but glanced at Tig. "Any decisions yet?"

"Not on that," he replied dryly, and then stole a glance at Joss and rolled his eyes. She carefully and clandestinely nodded and then flopped back in her chair, but Gemma was moving on and was far too busy to notice anyway.

"Okay, let's talk vows then," Gemma said and flipped over to a fresh page in the wedding planner, then looked at Joss, then Tig, and back at Joss. "I think it would be really memorable for everyone there if you wrote your own!"

What the flaming hell was Gemma thinking? Yeah, Tig, who couldn't even tell Joss he loved her, was going to write wedding vows? "No!" Before he even realized it, the word just ejected from his mouth and he was sitting bolt upright in his chair, and everyone was looking at him, but Tig didn't give a fuck, this was his stand and he was taking it, damn it! "The only fucking way I'm writing any fucking wedding vows is if I get to write what I want her to say!" And he pointed at Joss, who tried hard not to laugh…again she found him funny, but Tig didn't understand why. "Cuz there's some shit we might as well get straight right at the start of this marriage…and the first thing is, I don't write vows! I don't talk about that kinda shit for anyone or in front of anyone. What's between me and Joss is between me and Joss, she knows what she has to know, and that's all anyone else has to know!"

"Tigger," Gemma sighed and looked like she was going to laugh at him and make him feel like an asshole for what he'd said, and then try to sway him around to her vow writing idea, and Tig, who normally never felt any annoyed sentiment towards his queen felt himself start to bristle under her patronizing stare, but Joss, his dark, sweet, perfect Joss read everything in the cold glare of his ice blue eyes.

"Gemma," Joss said before Gemma could continue with whatever statement she intended to make. "Tig's right, he won't do it, and I don't want him to have to."

Bobby glanced nervously at Tig, then back towards the two women, shaking his head and tugging at his beard like he was trying to think of something to say, but Gemma's superior smile was already bent in Joss's direction. "You don't want to hear your future husband tell you he loves you on your wedding day?"

Hmm…Gemma had stacked the deck with a lot of Hallmark shit that time, but Tig was so pleased…and very turned on…that Joss didn't budge. "No," she said, looking levelly and almost challengingly at Gemma. "I don't."

Gemma stared at Joss now, likely a bit surprised that the girl hadn't backed down, and that's when Bobby cut in, glancing at Tig again like he was surprised Tig wasn't the one jumping in here to smooth all the ruffled feathers…but the truth was, it was hot to watch Joss go to battle for her old man, and Tig was too entranced to try to stop her or it. Maybe Bobby could tell that from the horny, glazed over look in Tig's eyes, because Bobby just sighed and shook his head. "Hey, we'll just go the traditional route," Bobby said, and made a note on the legal pad that sat in front of him, and both Gemma and Joss calmed, or maybe were just distracted. Bobby didn't look up as he made the notation, he must have been afraid to. "'Usual vows, 'love, honor and cherish…'" he jotted, reading it allowed as he did, then looked at everyone over the tops of his glasses. "That suit everyone?"

Gemma was quiet…unhappily quiet, but Tig for the first time ever didn't care that she wasn't happy; he was too distracted by the troubled look on Joss's face anyway, what was her problem now? "Tig," she said like she was trying to tell him something without everyone else hearing it, but of course, there was no way to pull that off. "You do understand that you'll have to repeat what Bobby just said!"

"Yeah?" Tig asked, making a face and shrugging…fuck, what was with her? "You think I can't repeat after someone?"

Joss sighed and glanced upwards at the ceiling then back over at Tig. "'love, honor and cherish'…" she said, her eyes wide as she tried to communicate whatever it was to him. "You're going to repeat 'love, hon—"

Oh shit! Tig sat up straight in his chair again…no, he wasn't saying that! Not the "L" word, not in front of everyone who knew him! No God damn way! "Fuck!" He loudly groaned and brought his fist down on the table with a sudden thump…this vow shit was worse than the actual wedding shit, but maybe there was a way to fix the vow shit! He looked at Bobby. "Hey, can we take out the very first word of that traditional shit and replace it with the word I just said?"

Bobby furrowed his brow and arched one eyebrow. "Fuck?" He asked like he was a little confused, "'I will fuck, honor and cherish you?'" Bobby asked in vow form and Tig nodded and Joss began to laugh. "Works for me," Bobby sighed, and made another note beside the note he'd made only moments ago.

"Oh no!" Gemma exploded. "No!" And she was giving Tig a hard look now that he just hated. "You are going to have to get over yourself and say what needs to be said, Tigger!"

Joss was about to speak up on his behalf again, but no, she'd fought enough of this fight, even if he did love watching her do it. "Or what?" Tig asked like calling Gemma's bluff and now more determined than ever to go against whatever Gemma pushed for, and most of all, to not take any of this wedding shit seriously. Maybe if he didn't cooperate, then Gemma would just call it off…right? Yeah…sure…this wasn't a dangerous game he was playing…nope, not at all…fuck!

"Tig!" Joss sucked in a rapid breath and was shaking her head. Yeah, she'd been all stubborn with Gemma, but now she was trying to keep the peace. "Please, we'll find someth—"

"You know," Gemma suddenly said, her voice a bit raised, and she was still staring at Tig, and she pursed her lips. "We can talk about the vow thing later…and believe me when I say we will," she added, her eyes narrowing a little as she starred harder at Tig, but then finally looked away and sighed, putting on a smile again. "Let's talk wedding gifts," she said, then looked at Tig again. "What are you getting for Joss, and don't say a ring!" And then Gemma's expression went all snarky again and she looked down at Joss's hands. "Although if you did, you would be giving her something she doesn't already have!"


	7. Fait Accompli

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 7

It was after eleven p.m. now and Joss was surprised both that she hadn't been called into the house yet, and also that one of the dynas was pulling up in front of Gemma's house. But when she saw who it was, her surprised lessened, but she did feel a little bit anxious…"be careful," that's what Tig had told her…she could do that, but she would have preferred that Tig were still here.

"Hey," Jax looked up and was a bit startled to see her sitting there on his mother's porch as he hung his helmet over the drag bar. "What are you doing here?"

Joss sighed resignedly, but that due only partially to her current situation and all the wedding shit…this was the first time she'd spoken to Jax alone since Tara exiled herself from the club. There was a time when she used to love talking to Jax…but he'd failed her in so many ways he'd likely never be able to understand, and it had started with how he couldn't be there for Tara the way she needed him to be. Still…Joss was a little sister in need of a big brother, and there he stood…but why couldn't it be on more clear and concise terms? "I'm being held prisoner," she answered with a roll of her eyes and flopped back against the porch swing she sat in…she still couldn't believe it herself.

"What?" Jax laughed a little, clearly not understanding. "Tig's not here?" He started towards the porch as he looked around for Tig's bike, looking back at Joss with raised eyebrows then that the spike and skull studded, matte black dyna was nowhere in sight. "Shit! You're serious, aren't you?"

Jax sounded oddly familiar with this situation, and Joss was surprised, though a little bit soothed, maybe she had someone to talk to after all. "Yeah," she nodded, and then peered through the living room window behind her, but no one was there looking on or listening in. When she'd turned back to Jax, he was taking a seat beside her on the porch swing…wow, it had been awhile since last they'd talked, but were they still friendly? It seemed like it…or was this some ploy on Jax's part to do…whatever it was Tig was figuring he was doing, concerning the pending ruler-ship of the club? Okay, "be careful," she could do that! "So, what are you doing here? It's late."

Jax sighed. "Gotta tell Clay I can't make it to work tomorrow, got some shit of my own I'm taking care of." He replied and the words for some reason chilled Joss a bit, but Jax seemed too relaxed when he'd said them, not like he was trying to brush her off or not tell her something that he didn't want her to know…but was he? He looked back at her, still so calm and so casual. But why couldn't Jax just call Clay and tell him he wasn't coming in tomorrow? No, this was no ordinary request for time off. But Jax didn't look hurried or nervous, he just focused on Joss and seemed like he wanted to help, the way a brother should. "So, how'd your current situation get to be?"

But Joss couldn't let go of it…what was Jax handling that was more important than the garage…that bore his last name? Hmm…and what would the garage be called when Tig over the club? Okay, that was much less of a dilemma than what Jax was up to. The reason for Jax's visit must have been important…but Joss knew she wasn't likely to find out anything about it tonight…but if it was somehow clandestinely important, why would Jax have even acknowledged it as being his "shit?" Hmm…maybe it wasn't that important? Maybe he just had a medical appointment? Or, maybe Jax only said what he said because he wanted it to appear like it was nothing secretive? Oh but this was exhausting…Joss really didn't want to think about it right now, she had enough problems of her own to solve…Tig…she'd be without him tonight, and the thought of facing a night without him was…well…as stupid as it sounded, Joss wasn't sure she was going to make it. Tig was right, something was with her, and she was "on him" an awful lot lately…but she needed to be, needed him close, needed to know he was there…and now he wasn't. Oh God…it wasn't panic that was setting in, or even heartbreak, but some kind of…jostled around feeling of capture, separation and displacement that was now bleeding fear and loneliness. She wanted Tig! But…no…Joss drew a deep, forlorn breath. "Gemma called both Tig and I over tonight to do more wedding planning—"

Jax nodded. "So…if Gemma wanted Tig here, you guys must've set a date, then."

"Yeah," Joss replied, again surprised and it showed in her features. "Well, Gemma set the date, the marriage license finally came," she explained, but she couldn't stop looking at Jax like he'd read ahead a few chapter in a book that wasn't even written. How'd he know this? There wasn't some kind of…conspiracy between mother and son to derail Clay's plans for the future, was there? Is this maybe what this wedding shit was all about? Push Tig and Joss apart somehow, so that Gemma's blood offspring was the only choice left as future president? Oh fuck…oh no…that felt so so terrible…it couldn't be…but…Tig had said, "be careful"…what if—

Jax's face crinkled with more laughter. "I've been through Gemma's wedding plans once myself, Joss." He finally said, and Joss relaxed a bit, hoping Jax didn't know what she'd been thinking initially. "I know I don't talk about it much, but I was married to Abel's mother…not the best relationship, not the best wife or mother, but I still was married to her. And Gemma…yeah…" he sighed and shook his head. "She was big time all over the wedding, and she hated Wendy!"

"Oh," Joss's stunned reaction was more due to how stupid she was and how wild her thoughts were. "I'm sorry, I never even considered that," she laughed a bit now, feeling a little guilty for thinking what she had about some "conspiracy." But still, "be careful," Tig had told her that for a reason. "So you've fought this demon already?" And Joss laughed a little more.

"Yeah, and I still wear the scars!" Jax nodded again and chuckled with her a little. "So, if you're being kept here, which one of you acted up and objected to having both your likenesses captured in a ten fool tall ice sculpture?"

Joss laughed again unexpectedly. "Wow, Gemma hadn't gotten to that one yet!"

"Give her time," Jax sighed. "So what did happen? She only separates betrothed couples when she's really pissed."

Joss nodded, Gemma was pissed alright. "Tig," she said and sighed. "He kinda usurped Gemma's wedding power and declared that I'd be wearing a black, off the shoulder dress with a short skirt, that the wedding guests would be divided not as groom's side and bride's side, but as 'shirts' and 'skins,' and then told Gemma we weren't going to be making a seating chart for the reception, because, and this is a direct quote from my man, 'if you're too God damn dumb to find a seat and put your ass in it, then fuck you!'" It was so much funnier when she said it out loud and even Jax was laughing like it was a good joke. "I'm thinking the final straw was the discussion on what we're supposed to be getting one another as wedding gifts…Tig was being strange on purpose and told me I have to get him 'a mean fish!'"

"What is that?" Jax laughed. "He wants a tiger shark?"

"I don't know," Joss sighed more than laughed…she fully understood why Tig had bucked in the harness of Gemma's wedding shit, but if he'd done so a bit more subtly, Gemma wouldn't have "decided" that it was "best" if Joss "just stay over at the house until they had the wedding completely planned out and under control." Well, yeah, there was a lot to do, and they only two weeks to do it in…but still…fuck…Joss was likely to be living here, staying in Jax's old room, until she and Tig were married! This was so unfair! She wanted to be with Tig! Not sleeping alone in Jax's old bed! But, Tig had made his displeasure clear to Gemma, and Gemma had stepped it up and showed Tig just how unhappy he could be. And now here Joss was, missing her man with some kind of intensity she'd never quite felt before. Oh God…she needed Tig! She wouldn't sleep tonight, she knew she wouldn't…Tig wasn't with her, and she wouldn't sleep until he was…she couldn't, there was no one to protect her now. Protect her…really, that's what Tig was trying to do with his wedding shit objections…she'd been trying to do the same for him…but who knew it was going to land them here? Or more accurately, her here and him at their house; they belonged together, they were part of each other, fit together so well that each was somehow broken without the other. Joss shook her head sadly and looked at Jax. "Apparently, Tig's giving me cemetery plots, because 'weddings are about being together forever.'" 

"Wow," laughed Jax. "I can't imagine why Gemma decided you should stay over a few days for her wedding planning crash course."

"Any advice? Bro?" Joss asked, feeling like Jax really did care, that he really did understand…maybe that was a mistake, but she was still "being careful"…wasn't she? "I mean Gemma's one extreme with all the 'white lace and promises,' and Tig's the other extreme with wanting to hand everyone a bag of Cheetos as a wedding favor, and I'm stuck in the middle of them both and paying the penalty for it all!" Tig…he'd only been gone maybe an hour and a half, and she already missed him…when would she see him again? This sucked! Sucked the soul right out of her…Tig…Oh God, did she need him! Yeah, she'd been ticked with Gemma herself lately too, but Joss knew how far to push something, and how to push it, but Tig? He just tore into it, made no secret of how fucking stupid he thought everything was, without having to yell and stomp around like he usually did when he wasn't feeling something…but he'd still gone way too far…but then, Tig had never challenged Gemma before, not really, so Joss couldn't fault him for not knowing how to go about doing so. Still, his outburst had landed her the role of seventeen year old girl, living at home with mom and dad, who even had a curfew now, to boot! She really just wanted to go home…be with her man…damn, she should have taken Tig up on that eloping idea he'd had earlier today! In part, this was her own fault for being considerate of Gemma's feelings….well, it wasn't Gemma's feelings Joss had been one hundred percent concerned about…it was Gemma's 'crazed bitch' reaction to finding out that she and Tig had just run off and did their own thing. Still…Joss wanted Tig tonight, she needed Tig tonight…and she didn't have him, and wouldn't for who knew how long! She wanted to cry…and how fucking stupid and pathetic was that? "I don't want to do this anymore," she heard herself say, but it wasn't actually Jax she'd directed it to.

"You don't want to get married?" Jax snapped to like he'd been waiting to hear her say that, like he was still clinging to some hope that she was just an innocent girl somehow charmed by whatever voodoo Tig Trager was capable of, despite what the entire club had see her do to Stahl…or maybe Jax just assumed that Tig was working through Joss as well?

Anger and aggravation flared within Joss, but she hid it with a deep, heavy sigh, "I didn't say that," she said firmly, but something in the way her rib cage had expanded and compressed again woke up the pulled oblique and it was throbbing now, making her wince and clutch at her right side, it was spasm-ing now and Joss bent over, her chest in her lap as her face contorted with the twisting pain.

"You okay?" Jax's hand was on her shoulder, trying to stop her from tipping so far forward she fell out of the swing. "I heard you had a bad fall off of that horse and won't go to a doctor…Tara's at home, I can call her now if—"

Tara…somehow, that just made the pain a little deeper, but Joss forced herself to sit up again. "No, I'm good. It just misbehaves from time to time," she said and took a slow deep breath, then took what was probably an unnecessary chance. "How is Tara?"

Jax sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Joss." He said first. "But I'm not supposed to be talking about her to anyone associated with the club, that's how she wants it."

Joss nodded sadly, but she wasn't surprised. Hmm…was there possibly some other reason Tara had for not wanting to be associated with the club? Jax did tell her everything after all, as stupid as that was…but what had he told her? What did Tara know? As disappointed and angry and despairing as it made Joss to be without Tig, she just couldn't stop thinking about Jax and what he said about why he was here; he could have called Clay about a day off…he didn't have to come over. "Did Clay know you were coming over?" Joss asked, and then immediately wanted to kick herself…shit…she should have prefaced that question with something about Tara so it would have blended in with, and been a better lead in, to asking about what Jax was doing here! But, too late…way too late!

Jax looked back at her and lifted his head a bit, but his eyes never left hers, maybe trying to get a read for what Joss herself knew, what she was hiding, or what she was trying to hide, but luckily, the only thing she did know was to "be careful." Jax was nodding now, a wry smile at the very corners of his mouth, then he kind of jerked his head towards hers, it was all very subtle, but Joss knew Jax knew she knew…something. "No," Jax finally said, and never took his eyes from hers, watching her intently like she was going to do something to tip her hand at any moment. "There's a couple things that Clay knows nothing about."

Whoa…so Tig was right, there was something up with Jax…but what? And why was he making that clear to her now? It didn't feel threatening, but that didn't mean it wasn't. Jax was smiling now, reached over and patted her shoulder gently, leading Joss to believe that whatever it was that Jax was handling, it indeed wasn't something murderous or violent…but she knew better than to go on that instinct alone, no matter what. What didn't Clay know? And why didn't Clay know it?

The sound of the screen door opening shook both Joss and Jax out of their solemn little tête-à-tête. "Joss," Gemma's voice slipped from between the cracked open door. "Come on inside now, honey. It's late and we have an early start tomorrow."

"I'll be right there," Joss called back, and Gemma closed the door, apparently unaware that Jax was here. Joss wasn't looking forward to getting into Jax's old bed…Oh God, she was going to miss Tig so extensively and severely that she'd be in tears the moment her head hit the pillow. And Jax…what was he saying? What did he mean? Now was no time to walk away from this conversation, but there was no other choice…Joss didn't put it passed Gemma not to come out here and drag her inside by her ear.

"Yeah," Jax sighed and got to his feet. "I gotta talk to Clay anyway," he said.

Fuck…what was Jax going to talk to Clay about, on his own, late at night and unannounced? But, there wasn't enough time to get that worked out now, not tonight. Still…Joss had to find out something…these 'up in the air' types of thoughts were only going to weaken her more and more, and without Tig, she was already weak enough. "Jax," she said, and was surprised to notice her hand on his as she stopped him in front of her…fuck, she really did think that one day they would be the closest of friends! "Are you okay?"

What had she asked that for? Well okay, that was obvious, was Jax okay with what he had to know about the shift in who the crown prince was…but it wasn't like Jax would actually tell Joss if he wasn't! And yeah, okay, so she'd also asked because she was genuinely concerned about Jax himself…he hadn't turned out to be who or what Joss had thought he was, but yeah, she still liked him, and she liked Tara too. Jax looked back at her now and kind of grimaced. "Go on, get inside," he told her and walked over to the door. "Gemma's going to really give you hell if you don't, trust me."

Joss sighed and slowly got to her feet, not daring to take the chance of aggravating that damn oblique again, but her thoughts were mostly on what Jax wasn't saying. "But Jax," she said as she approached him at the door. "Just tell me, are you okay?" Fuck, why had she asked that again?

Jax kind of snorted and shook his head as he opened the door, realizing he was going to have to answer her with something. "I'll let you know, Joss." He finally said, nodding at her as he opened the house door and Joss stepped in front of him to go through it, but he caught her arm and held her there a moment, giving her that steady, serious stare again. "I'll let you know when I'm 'okay.'"


	8. Go Between

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 8

It was so hard to keep her eyes open at the dining room table this morning, but then Joss hadn't slept all night. Tig wasn't going to have a very good day at the garage, because he hadn't slept either; Joss knew that because he'd been texting with her all night. Tig of course knew how much Joss felt like she needed him right now, for whatever the reason was, and he'd been there for her as best he could be, sending the first message just after midnight and asking if she was alright…and Tig knew her so well that his second message to her had told her to "stop crying." It had actually made Joss laugh a little…through her tears…that Tig knew she was. She'd told him about Jax's late visit and the reason for it, Tig agreeing that it was strange and not what Jax claimed it was about, telling her again to "be careful." Joss had told Tig of her Gemma suspicions as well, but Tig had dismissed them, saying he agreed that the queen seemed frustrated and angry about something, and even suggested Gemma was taking that frustration and anger out on the soon to be Tragers, but Tig said he felt that there was no "conspiracy" to be worried over. He was right, Gemma may never have worn her patch, but she also didn't go against something Clay decreed. For the rest of the night they'd talked about how Joss was feeling, if she was in any pain, and since Joss could hide every cringe and recoil, she down played it, told Tig she was "okay," that she'd taken some aspirins and they'd helped…and she had taken some aspirins, but the truth was they hadn't touched the spasms and it was impossible to find a comfortable position in the bed she lay in. She'd needed Tig…she couldn't sleep without his broad chest as her pillow, and his strong arm around her.

"You look worse today than you did yesterday," Clay observed as he sipped his coffee at the head of the table, studying Joss as Gemma flipped eggs at the stove. "You okay?"

Joss looked up from the glass of orange juice in front of her and fought to keep her eyes open…what was it about sunlight that reminded her of how tired she was now? "Yes and no," she sighed to Clay, and hoped she hadn't said too much in those three words alone.

Clay nodded. "Gemma, another coffee out here," Clay yelled into the kitchen, but his eyes were on Joss. "Look, I know what's wrong," he said leaning over towards her and his voice low but very commanding. "And I'm going to try to fix this, because it's a little extreme and a lot pointless. All it does is create two problems for me what with you looking like that and Tig being about ten times worse at the garage."

Joss had just started to smile, wow, Tig would be worse than she was? And Clay was going to help her? Thank you God, at least she still had Clay on her side! Joss was about to sigh in relief, but Gemma arrived in the dining room holding a coffee pot and another mug. "Joss, you want milk and sugar?"

"No, she'll take it black, looks like she needs it that way." Replied Clay looking up at Gemma, but he didn't smile at her like he normally did. "The girl's been through hell last night, can't you see that?"

Gemma put the mug on the table and pushed it over to Joss with a sigh. "Well she's going to look like 'hell' until the black eyes fade out a little more," she said to Clay.

"Fuck the black eyes! I'm talking about the dark circles!" Said Clay loudly, but still not angrily, not really…he and Tig, they both had that ability to sound scary, but not in a way that meant anyone was in trouble.

Gemma narrowed her eyes at Clay but then looked lovingly over at Joss. "Joss, honey, look up a minute, let's see what you look like with a little light on your face."

Joss really didn't want to, the sunlight hurt her tired eyes too much this morning, but she lifted her chin and turned her face up to Gemma like she'd asked. "Hmm," Gemma mused. "You'll look better with a little make-up." She said, and then turned around to go back into the kitchen.

"Yeah," Clay called after her, shaking his head like he was a little frustrated himself. "We'll just keep covering shit up, it'll be fine!"

Hmm…so there was friction between Gemma and Clay too? Was it the fact that Gemma was making her stay here, or was it Jax? Joss waited until she heard the sizzle of eggs in the frying pan again, signifying that Gemma was once again occupied, then looked over at Clay. "It's not the wedding that's got her so pissed off, is it?"

Clay's eyes came down heavily on Joss for a split second, but he took a swallow of his coffee and eased up on his stare, but he wasn't taking the long to this. "I take it you talked with Jax last night too?"

"Yeah," she said, because she'd never lie to Clay. She might "dress up" the truth a little with Tig, or camouflage it now and then, but then that was just the kind of shit that couples did…but Clay, no, Clay always got the truth from her, no matter what. "But he didn't say anything about anything specific, just said he was asking for the day off today so he could take care of some stuff."

"Yeah," Clay sat back in his chair again, but not before he reached out and patted the back of Joss's hand gently, like telling her he knew she'd told him everything she knew. "And the 'stuff' he's taking care of ain't making your mom and me real happy." He said, raising his coffee to his lips again, but then suddenly jerking it down as Joss started to laugh a little bit. "Damn it, I meant 'Gemma and me,' not 'your mom' and me!" He corrected, laughing a little himself too.

"It's okay," Joss giggled, smiling for the first time today and so distracted by Clay's slip that she scarcely noticed what he'd said about Jax. "I knew what you meant, dad!" She smirked.

Clay chuckled warmly and then pushed his chair away from the table, turning it a little sideways as he did. "Come here," he said to Joss, opening his arms a little. She stood and moved towards Clay, before she was even to him, he pulled her into a big bear hug, causing Joss to fall forward a little as her arms went around Clay in return, and she fell down onto his knee as he hugged her tightly. Yeah, Clay was still very much on her side and Tig's too…at least, that was assuming there were "sides" in all of this horrendous shit that was happening, and there certainly seemed to be. No one had ever hugged Joss like this; she felt safe and secure and loved, which is what it always felt like to be close to Tig too, but that was much different. She hugged Clay back even tighter, but all too soon he was letting go of her and she was sitting up again. "That was because you looked like you needed it," he told her, his arm still around her shoulders. "You're a good girl, and none of this bullshit that's happening around you is your fault, okay?"

Joss listened intently, feeling younger than her seventeen years even if they had been stretched beyond their meager measure. Clay wasn't about to tell her everything, she knew not to expect that, but he was telling her what he wanted her to know, looking out for, like a father was supposed to. "I know how much you love Tig, and I know how much the lucky, sick son of a bitch loves you back, so I'm going to do whatever I can to get you two back with each other," Joss was smiling already, her heart pounding, but Clay paused in a way that told her there was going to be a fire to face, some piper to be paid in order to be with her man again. It didn't matter; Joss would do whatever it took. She needed Tig…it was stupid, it was over the top and unmitigated, but she really did feel like she'd die if she wasn't with him…she loved Tig so much! Clay was looking eye to with her, his expression so so serious. "But you gotta help me with something," he said and for a second his eyes moved towards the kitchen. "Gemma's going through some 'mommy shit,' and because she is, she's trying like hell to hold onto everything and everyone she feels is, or will, or even could, leave her." Clay explained, his voice quiet, but he held Joss even more on his knee and stared even deeper at her. Huh, so Gemma was having empty nest issues? About Jax? Or about Joss? Clay's blue eyes pulled even more at Joss's attention. "I need you to keep that in mind, and indulge her as much as you can. I know she's taking over things with the wedding, but just go with it, little one. Make her happy, cuz no one can right now." Clay's hand rubbed Joss's shoulder comfortingly, knowing that she'd rather not have to be part of this wedding thing anymore. And then Clay planted a kiss on Joss's forehead. "You are a good girl, and because you are, I'm not going to let you suffer any real tragedies with the nuptials. You just keep communicating to me about any problems that arise, I'll handle it."

Joss nodded and fought hard not to let the look of dread come through in her face…but comply with Gemma's wedding wishes? No! "Okay," she promised Clay, nonetheless, and she knew she'd keep her word to the old king; there was only ever one subject to ever disobey him, and said subject was now without a birthright. Clay smiled faintly then hugged Joss again. She sighed happily; having to let Gemma do what she wanted with the wedding was going to be terrible, but at least Joss had the feeling of being safe again. She'd spent the night without that comfort.

"It'll be alright," Clay promised her and patted her back gently. "Just be strong, Joss. Gemma needs a daughter a little more right now than you need a mom."

Chapter 8; Part 2

"Clay!" Jesus fucking Christ, Tig felt like he'd been waiting forever for Clay to get into work this morning, and without even thinking about it, Tig was running towards him before Clay was even off of his bike. He knew he looked worried, and nervous, but that was because he was and just couldn't hide it any longer. Joss…God fucking damn it, ordinarily if anyone dared to get in between he and Joss, Tig would have shoved a fully powered blow torch up their ass, but it was Gemma who had taken his sweet, dark angel away from him, and there wasn't anything Tig could do about it! The frustration alone had him physically shaking, and the grief and overall feeling of having been thrown into solitary confinement…again was making Tig so angry he'd actually hallucinated Joss sleeping on the loveseat across from where he slept on the couch this morning. The heartbreak of that mirage had brought Tig to his knees…Joss…he had to get her back! Clay obviously noticed how out of sorts Tig was, but Tig didn't care, he just looked at Clay like a junky badly in need of a fix. "Joss okay? She didn't answer my text this morn—"

Clay seemed to smile a little as he shook his head and waved at Tig to stand down…fuck, did Clay think this separation thing was funny? It fucking wasn't! When that damn girl hadn't answered Tig's text, it was all he could do not to drive over to Clay's house just to make sure Joss was alright, and not slumped into some crying, or catatonic, heap in the corner of Jax's old room. Something was bothering his sweet, dark angel, she was afraid, or at the least, felt vulnerable for some reason. All Tig knew for certain was that this was not the best time for Gemma to have gotten in between them like she did…Joss…he'd do anything to make sure she was okay, and thoughts that she was lying in Jax's old bed, crying her eyes out, had kept him awake and texting her until they both finally fell asleep around four in the morning. It had been the last time Tig had heard from Joss…fuck…she had woken up this morning, hadn't she? Whatever it was that Joss was being currently haunted by hadn't broken over her after their last text early this morning, had it? She wasn't catatonic in Jax's old bed, and still undiscovered, right now, was she? Shit…fuck…Tig should just get on his bike and go over there right now! Gemma's orders be damned! But Clay seemed calm…ambitious, but calm. "Joss is fine," Clay finally answered. "I had a talk with her before I left, explained a few things to her, she's good." He furthered, but Tig couldn't help standing there in front of Clay and begging for more information than that with his eyes. "She had a little bit of a rough night, which translated into a rough morning though. And that's not all, you and me gotta talk about Jax."

"Fuck, I knew it!" God damn it…Tig stood looking at the ground with his hands at his waist, one finger toying with the handle of his knife even though he knew there was no reason to be drawing it. Every thought was of Joss, he hadn't registered Jax's name in anything Clay said. But he now knew Clay had talked to Joss this morning, so she wasn't catatonic! At least there was that…for now…but Tig had to get her back, he was her strength through whatever this was she was facing and going through. He'd made a promise to her several times that he wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and now he wasn't there to make good on it! Tig had never felt this kind of reckless, furious vigor coursing through him before, and it threatened to rage until it split him in two. He had to get to Joss…he just had to! "She needs me, Clay. I can't be away from her right now…Jesus fucking Christ, have you been watching her? She can't even look in the mirror with her eyes all bashed up like that unless I'm standing there with her! She's PTS-ing about something, I just know she is, and now she's alone…"

"Hey Romeo," Clay half sighed, but Tig was being tossed in the waves of his need to fight something, to beat something into submission in order to win Joss back. So much wild power surged in Tig that he shuddered with each breath he drew, and then suddenly something steadied him abruptly and solidly. "She's not alone, okay? Don't worry about that." Clay's hands gripped both Tig's shoulders with a strength that surprised Tig. He looked at Clay and tried to focus, okay, Clay was there for Joss, Joss was okay…but Joss wasn't home where she should have been, Joss wasn't with the man that was marrying her, the man that owned her…this was so wrong…it was wrong…Tig wanted her back…he needed her back! "Tig, get it together, you're tearing yourself apart, and this isn't as bad as you're thinking it is. Trust me!" Clay insisted, shouting a little and even making a fist and pounding Tig in the chest once just to jolt him back into reality a little more. Okay, no matter what, Tig knew he could trust Clay.

"Sorry man," Tig finally managed, and ran his hand through his wild, dark hair, realizing how stupid he would have been feeling about now if it had been anyone other than Clay looking back at him. "I just miss her, and I'm worried about her." Tig shook his head. "She's mine, and she's fighting somethin'…I should be there with her…" fuck, now he couldn't stop talking, despite that he wasn't saying anything…at least he wasn't saying anything he really wanted to be saying. "Joss, man…she's in me, I love that girl—"

"Okay," Clay nodded, but Tig knew he was actually hitting the "off switch" for Tig's own good…fuck, did he say he loved Joss out loud again? Aw shit…what was happening to him? Well, at least it was Clay this time, not Ope! Clay shook his head and glanced skywards like praying for strength, then looked back at Tig. "You know, I wish Joss was here right now too, cuz I told her this morning that for as mopey and teary eyed as she is, that you'd be ten times as worse, and damn if I wasn't right on the money!" Clay chuckled a little, bringing the energy down a few notches, and eventually Tig laughed a little himself, but not much. Was he really ten times the drama queen Joss was? Really?

"I gotta find a way to see her, Clay." Tig sighed as Clay handed him a cigarette, which was right on cue, because Tig really needed some nicotine…or some whiskey. But he was a bit calmer now, thanks to Clay. As long as Clay was in that house, Joss wasn't alone, but still…Tig knew what Joss needed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that without it, whatever it was that was bothering her was going to erupt and bury her inside herself again. Wait…did Clay call him "Romeo?" What the fuck? Shit! Was he acting that pathetic? Yeah, he was…that damn girl…just what the fuck had she done to him? "I just," what? He what? Had to see Joss? He said that already. Fuck, he was cruising for another "Romeo" to be thrown at him! Shit! But yeah, that was what Tig was going to repeat…he just had to find a way to be with Joss…because he really did have to be with her! Fuck…why'd he have to go and propose to her? No, proposing to her was good, he did want that…his mistake was in announcing it and seeking help to marry her now instead of just being patiently quiet and waiting until Joss was of age, then doing their own thing under cover of darkness. Tig never saw himself as getting married again, was in no way prepared for that, or how it felt…but he didn't want the wedding Gemma was planning…he didn't want a wedding…and Joss, she was so perfect, she only wanted her old man, she needed nothing else…why couldn't they just have each other and be left alone? Alone…he had to be with Joss…soon! Tig took a long drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke on a deep sigh. "I just gotta see her, man. I'm not going to be right until I do!"

God damn it! There he went, bein' all fucking "Romeo" again! He'd be cutting off his ear to prove how much he loved Joss in no time…wait, that wasn't in the "Romeo" story, was it? Shit…what body part did Romeo cut off? And how did that prove love anyway? That proved you had a hostage, sure, but love? What did a bitch do with a body part anyway? Hey! Joss's ring! Maybe they made engagement rings with little diamond ears on them? What? No…that was stupid! And Romeo didn't cut off his ear…no, he stuck his finger in a dam and saved a dyke or some shit…no, wait, this wasn't making any fucking sense! The cut off ear shit and the dyke, that was all Dutch shit! Romeo wasn't Dutch! No, he was French or whatever! Fuckin' Holland! Fuckin' Europe with all its countries all stuck so fucking close together! Fuck it all! That shit didn't matter! How'd his life ever get to be such bullshit? Where was that old resolve to never ever let his feelings for Joss show, particularly not to himself? But fucking Christ did Tig need to be with her!

Clay was watching him as if he could hear every thought that had just thunked through Tig's mind. Thunked? Whatever! Clay's expression was back to being ambitious again. "Look," he said. "Gemma may have Joss, but I'll make sure Joss is okay, you have my word on that, I love that girl too, you know." Clay said, and being reminded of Clay's own affection for Joss grounded Tig faster than anything else had since he'd left Gemma's dining room table the night before, but Clay was far from being finished speaking, and he was even smiling now like he had good news. "I know how bad you wanna see Joss, and I can feel how much you need to, cuz you're about as fuckin' nuts as I've ever seen you!" He sighed, but then there was that smile again, Clay had some kind of plan; Tig could see it in his eyes already. "Gemma's taking Joss dress shopping today," he said. "I figure that can only mean the formal attire place over on Oak Street, the one that used to be an arcade…with a front and a rear entrance!" Clay's smile broadened. "I'll give Gemma a call around eleven thirty, keep her distracted long enough for you to slip in the back door. Gemma said she booked some kind of private 'room' or something for Joss to be trying on dresses in the back." Now Tig was smiling, and Clay was nodding and patted Tig on the shoulder again, "Consider it your conjugal visit!"


	9. Ball Gown

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 9

It wasn't such an odd thing for brides to see themselves decked out in their wedding dress and cry, that Joss had to admit…but usually, they weren't crying the way she was. This was a terrible dress…it was big…really big…super poofy! The bodice wasn't bad, strapless boned corset with more pearl and white sequin embellishments than Joss would have maybe preferred, but it was doable. But the skirt…oh God…it was bell shaped, like an old fashion hoop skirt! In fact, Joss was even wearing a hoop skirt beneath the layers and layers and layers of ruffled tulle! It was like standing in the center of a big, white, puffy six to six and a half foot circle! Gemma had wanted something that "made a statement," and this big pile of white shit certainly did! It screamed, "get me the hell out of this dress!" But Joss was the only one who could hear that pleading call. Gemma loved it; it actually took her breath away when Joss had stepped sheepishly out from the large room in the back to show her…she'd barely fit through the doorway with this damn, ridiculous, hoop skirt! She was lost in a sea of day glow white organdy and tulle from the waist down, a sweeping…no, a dragging, raking, cathedral train behind her that adjoined a white ribbon lined overskirt, like some big, fat, slothful tail. Holy shit this was a lot dress…a lot of awful, stupid looking, eight hundred and fifty dollar dress…that Joss fucking hated the moment she saw it in the store. This was not practical…this wasn't even sane…who needed to look like this? Damn, was she going to have to wear glass slippers with this monstrosity? Yeah, like anyone would be able to see her feet in this…abundant contraption! She couldn't even put her arms down at her sides because the poofiness of the skirt pushed them back up again. And there was no getting away from all this swollen tick look of tulle…everywhere Joss moved, or tried to move, the dress was there…like it was stalking her, corralling her in…she'd never escape Gemma's wedding now, ___mwahahaha! Y_eah, this dress was evil! Jesus…what if she put this on and then all of a sudden had to pee?

But the truly worst part about this wasn't even the dress really…though Joss would be having a discussion about this disaster in tulle with Clay tonight! The dress was horrid…but there was something even worse than it. A veil was out; this ugly dress didn't need any more poof, that was for damn sure, even Gemma could see that, so there was hope that she hadn't completely lost her mind. But Gemma wasn't giving up on her whole "statement" deal…and Joss died a little inside when she'd seen Gemma walking over to the case full of tiaras. No…not a tiara…not another fucking crown on her head…but yeah!

Joss fucking hated tiaras…throughout her pitiful life on the pageant circuit she'd collected a slew of them, starting at the age of three, on up to meeting Tig. Tig…maybe now he understood why she'd laughed and giggled so much that day she'd dragged all the crowns she could carry out of her room and then tossed them up in the air one by one and let Tig shoot them? It had been so liberating, as though each bullet that mangled the metal, shattered the paste diamonds and blackened all the faux pearls had destroyed a passed full of being shown off and advertised, then used…used in a way no child ever should have been by her father…those fucking tiaras, the fucking crowns, they were like some qualification of how top shelf and how supreme a piece of ass her father was getting…the more beautiful everyone seemed to agree she was, the more her father got off. Tiaras…Gemma had no idea how heavy they were on Joss's head…heavy enough to be make her look down in a shame that wasn't truly her own, and cry.

She'd been sent to the back room again to take off the dress, and while Joss had initially not been able to wait to get out of it, she realized suddenly that taking it off only put the gaudy garment one step closer to being paid for then bagged up and following her home. Gemma loved it…there was no other dress as far as the queen was concerned, and while that was disconcerting enough, it was the pain of that fucking tiara on her head that finally broke Joss down…and now here she stood, alone in the back room in front of the three panel mirror, still atop the little step stool she'd been placed on so that the tailor in charge of making the alterations to the sideshow freak of a dress could measure and mark where she needed to around the various layers of hems. And Joss couldn't stop crying…couldn't even move really, this damn dress was like a straight jacket, and she hated it…yet she'd promised Clay she would indulge Gemma, and she was trying too…she really was, but it was taking so much more energy than she had…Tig, she needed Tig! She'd never get through this without him…particularly if there was to be a tiara…oh God…

Joss heard the outside door rattle and then open, and figuring that maybe she and Gemma had used up their hour and the next party was here to do some dress shopping, she tried desperately to pull herself together, wiping furiously at her tears and preparing to step down off of the stool and make a run…ha! Yeah, bustle and rustle her way back into the dressing room proper…that this fucking dress filled up completely like a bubble bath with way too many suds…but when she went to step down off of the stool, she found that there was so much organdy and tulle and hoop skirt around her, she couldn't really find the ground. Great…this is just what she needed, someone to see her in the gag gift of a dress! Yeah, like that wasn't going to happen anyway! Shit…she was stranded on the stool, so angry and frustrated, and so rocked by the tiara pinned into her hair, that all she could do was stand there and cry even harder, despite her best efforts. She closed her eyes, if someone was going to see her she didn't want to have to watch them doing it.

There was only one set of footsteps coming back towards her, and though it was difficult to tell on the burgundy industrial grade carpet, Joss thought the walk was too heavy to be a woman's. Shit, who was about to walk in on her, and what did they want? Fuck…of all times to be without Tig! All she could do was squeeze her eyes closed tighter…this dress wasn't built for running for it. And then…

"What the flaming hell is that?" The footsteps stopped immediately, and the voice shook Joss…was she losing her mind now? Had the humiliation of this dress and the injury of the tiara finally caused her sanity to crumble? Because Jesus Christ that sounded like Tig! Like he was standing right next to her! And when Joss opened her eyes, there he was, beside her in the mirror's reflection, making a face.

"Ti—" she loudly gasped, feeling like her very own sun had risen bright and full inside her, but like a shot, Tig's hand flew over her gaping mouth, pressing firmly.

"Shhhh," he hissed making another face because she was only two inches shorter than he was all of a sudden. "I didn't sneak in the back way so you could let everyone know I was here, did I?" He asked, still looking at her strangely with his hand over her mouth. "What? You gotta booster seat under there or something?"

Joss pulled her face away from his hand, she was so suddenly renewed, but tears still stained her face though she was smiling now. Tig was here! He'd come for her! Oh, nothing else mattered if he was here! Clay had said he would try to reunite them, and he had! But for how long; no, she wouldn't mar this exuberance with thoughts of how soon it may end. Tig was here and it was like her heart had started to beat again, his presence empowering so much in her to live again. "Help me down; I'm stranded on this stupid foot stool in this maniacal dress!"

"Maniacal?" He smiled as his strong hands clutched her slim waist and removed her from the step stool, setting her down in front of him…well, as in front of him as he could get her…stupid, fucking, poof dress! "'Maniacal' sorta sounds like us, but baby, that dress ain't us!" He said, looking critically at her attire. "Shit, we can forget having best men and women, or whatever, cuz all that's gonna fit in that fucking gazebo is you!" He laughed next.

"Hey, I didn't choose this shitty thing!" Joss scowled, any association of herself and this dress really did make her angry, but she hadn't meant to scowl like that at Tig…he was with her, she'd missed him…he was her everything, and she'd never felt that more than when she wasn't with him, and didn't know when she'd be seeing him again. She didn't even know how long they had now…and before she knew it, she'd sort of launched herself forward into his arms, it really had taken some effort to crush this hideous mound of tulle flat enough to get close to him, but she'd managed, and Tig helped out by wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. "Tig," she sighed, the championship lunacy of this dress forgotten the moment she was against the broadness of his chest, his strong arms around her…Tig's presence always had made Joss feel special, more like a princess than the tulle and organdy silliness that she was currently entangled in ever would. She looked up at him and smiled…they must have been a pair…her in the wedding dress from some pixie hell, and he in the dirty, gray Teller-Morrow garage smock, a wallet chain across his leg, knife on his thigh…one of them was beauty, one of them was beast, but who was who Joss wasn't really sure. She looked up at him with happy, relieved tears in her eyes…it was so good to be close to him…God, she loved him!

"I know baby, I know," Tig half whispered as he looked down at her, cupping her cheek with his dirty hand, and then the scene suddenly did look like a wedding. He kissed her, almost tentatively, like he was hesitant to disturb whatever it was he saw in her, but at the first contact of his lips upon hers, both of them trembled, the touch so long deprived and the pleasure so suddenly concentrated. It felt like ages since Joss had kissed him, wanting so much to be close to him, but at the same time, wanting to kiss Tig the way she'd always kissed Tig and no one else, her palms flat on his chest instead of locking her arms around his neck. It was under Tig's power that they were close, his arms crushing her to him as their tongues gently slipped endlessly over the others again and again. Her body was against his, his taste was on her lips…she was with her man, her mate, and that newly conceived thing in her that seemed to grow a bit more each day with its need to be close to him was finally soothed…at least for a bit, and then it would rage out of control once more. Perhaps Tig was right, something was wrong? But if it was, Joss had no idea what or even why…she just knew she needed her man.

"Jesus fucking Christ Joss," he sighed as he broke the kiss to take a breath. "I never fuckin' thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at night because I couldn't do that," he admitted, and smoothed her hair, then kissed her again, worrying her lower than upper lip between his, Joss a happy, languid thing in his embrace, giving all that she had and taking all that he was, until Tig pulled away slowly, with the promise of coming back. "Whatja do to me, little girl?" he asked her, looking down at her, his forehead to hers. "You got me laying awake all night, heart achin' cuz I can't be kissing you, when I used to fall asleep imaging some generic bitch spitting out my jizz…" he complained and Joss laughed.

"I'm sorry, baby," she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against his garage shirt. "It was an awful night for me too, and it's been an awful morning, and the only thing that could have fixed any of it was you…and now you're here…and I love you, and I just want to be close to you…but it's not easy to be, because I look like a giant cupcake…"

"I was thinking more Hostess Sno Ball," he smirked down at her and then laughed when Joss looked up at him and scowled again.

"It is awful, isn't it?" Joss sighed, and braved a glance into the mirror…and tears appeared in her eyes again…Jesus…everything was making her cry today…stupid dress…stupid wedding! But Tig smiled a bit, sighed and pulled her close again, bending down to kiss the top of her head, and then noticing the tiara, and then he scowled.

"You didn't tell Gemma about these?" he asked gruffly, and grabbed the tiara with both hands, yanking it off of her head fiercely without any regard to how it was bobby-pinned into her hair. Strands of Joss's long, silky black tresses were now pulled asunder until they stood out all around her face like waving cobwebs, but Tig didn't seem to notice, he was in "protector mode" and Tig knew all about Joss and her tiara memories.

"No, I must have skipped that somewhere along the lines," Joss admitted on a sigh, but didn't want Tig to think that Gemma had forced something traumatic on her that Joss had clearly explained her abhorrence of.

Tig growled a little at the sparkling crown in his hand. "I'll make sure she fucking knows!" He promised brutishly and then threw the tiara across the private room like a throwing star, turning back to Joss as it bounced off of the beige wall, dented and dinged. He looked down at her like he'd just pulled from the wreckage of a car crash. "You okay?" He asked her urgently, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her a little.

Clearly this was part of his insistence that something was wrong…and yeah, everything was wrong, the tiara in particular, but Joss wasn't the kind of "fall apart" wrong that Tig kept readying for her to be, at least, she wasn't yet. "I just miss you," Joss answered, and there was no answer more truthful than that.

Chapter 9; Part 2

As it turned out, there was one good thing about this poofy dress! It took up more space than the dressing room had, even when Joss took it off, and now, all anyone walking back here would have been able to see in this fitting room she occupied would be the mounds and mounds of bright white tulle and organdy on the floor. Joss's feet were hidden in a sea of ruffles and hoop skirt…and so were Tig's!

The cast off ugly dress hid them both well, but keeping quiet had been a bigger challenge…quiet…they'd never had to be quiet before…they'd fucked standing up against a wall lots of times, but having to be quiet while they did it was something new, and it had lead to a lot of sloppy kissing, each of them gasping and breathing heavily, no rhythm to the breaths they drew because of the erratic way their mouths would suddenly fuse to the other's, desperately sucking at the other's lips or tongue in an effort to hide the moan or cry building within them.

The fitting room was small to begin with, but two people and the ridiculous dress made it even smaller, but the cramped space did nothing to diminish Tig's strength. Joss's legs gripped him around the waist as he held her to him, her back against the mirror hanging on the wall behind her as his big cock slid deeper with every thrust. She knew it wasn't possible, not really, but he felt bigger each time they fucked lately…or maybe it wasn't that he felt bigger, but he certainly seemed to be…conquering more of her somehow, like he wasn't just fucking her, he was making her know she belonged to him, that he was stronger than she was and that he possessed powers she'd never have. It was such ethereal crap, but it all seemed so real whenever Tig was inside her, fitting his bulk into her and fitting her around it, shaping her to his form. Joss felt happily dominated, the chosen mate of something truly alpha, and that thing inside of her that couldn't be close enough to her man was finally quiet, wrapped up around the wildness of so physical a bond.

Tig only seemed to be getting stronger with the increasing sharpness of his need, leaning into her more, his kisses edged with teeth as he growled softly in his chest. Joss had slipped into climax twice, Tig's shoulder still bearing the double half moon where she'd had to bite out her pleasure to buy silence. She could feel the head of his cock as it plunged in and out, expanding and contracting, his shaft so stiff and taut that Joss swore she could feel every blue vein that ran along its beautiful eight inches rippling against her soft inner walls that fought to hold him tighter within her. If she moved, if she pushed back against his thrusts, she could cum again, but no, she didn't want to. There was more pleasure to be had by feeling her man struggle and then spill deep inside her, and Joss was still, allowing Tig to put her where he wanted her as he growled a little louder and slammed into her a little harder, kissing her so furiously it was like being stabbed with his tongue. She could feel his heart racing, his blood singing in his veins, feeding every tense muscle that held his body as rigid as his wanton cock, all of them spastically seeking relief from this sensual torture.

Joss's body responded on its own, without her willing it too, her sheath gripping the solidness of Tig's unyielding cock every time he shoved it into her. He was like granite within her, making her his in as savage a way as love could allow him to, taking her, his body overpowering hers. Joss felt her body pulling at his, squeezing around him until it was painful to do so, but she couldn't stop. Tig needed more, that was becoming clearer and clearer, but there was limited space in the fitting room, they weren't at home in their bed where Tig could have, and would have, thrown her legs over his shoulders and given her the very definition of a deep, hard fuck…but he'd soon found a satisfying solution to their space issue.

"I don't want to hurt you, baby" he whispered, so out of breath that Joss wouldn't have heard him had his lips not been moving against her ear, "don't let me hurt you…" one hand slid from around her back, caressing her ribcage on down to her hip, smoothing along her thigh until his arm finally threaded under the bend of her knee, his palm going flat against the wall Joss's back was pressed to as he maneuvered his other arm into the same position with her leg over it.

The pain in Joss's right side threatened to re-awaken, but she ignored it. Tig needed this, and she'd give it to him. "I'm yours," she whispered to him as she clasped her hands together around his neck, looking into his crystal blue eyes. Her hips couldn't have been more open, her slit spread apart so much that every sopping pink crease of it kissed Tig's groin where it didn't swallow his big, throbbing cock itself. Everything she had was Tig's now, and she couldn't wait for him to use it. "I trust you, do what you want to me," she breathed against his lips as she leaned closer, her eyes already half hooded as her lips melted against his.

It may have begun with a gentle kiss of permission and persuasion, but there ceased to be gentleness now. Tig moved so hard and fast that it shook her body against the mirror and wall, making Joss's teeth chatter every time he slammed himself home, his cock swelling more and more and more, and the fatter and harder she felt it becoming, the fiercer Tig became, grunting and growling lowly, sucking at her neck, her shoulder, biting here and there, driving himself deeper and deeper until finally Joss felt him shudder, then his body froze, his cock rooted as much as her body could allow it to be, jerking and quivering inside her until Tig exhaled sharply at the first hot jet of semen that spattered against the slick softness of her embracing passage. Another followed, Joss moaning with the divine pleasure of knowing she'd pleased her man as Tig slumped against her, his impressive strength fading along with his rough, animalistic manner.

"Joss," Tig whispered hoarsely, letting her legs slowly slip from over his arms, her feet settling against the floor again, but she was still in Tig's arms…and knowing she was helped her to fight against the recurring pain in her right side that wanted to rage. "You okay?"

She smiled, ignored the pounding that was beginning in her oblique area. "Yeah," she said as Tig recovered the ability to stand up more than lean against her. "I keep telling you, you won't hurt me." She said softly to him, reaching up to re-tousle his dark hair.

But Tig shook his head. "No," both his hands rested on her shoulders. "You know that's not what I meant. I'm not complaining, baby, I'm not, cuz I'm gettin' to where I want you to touch me, and I know you wanna be close to me…but I'm feeling more and more like you're giving into me so I'll stick around," he cupped her cheek again. "I know there's some shit happening right now that neither one of us saw coming, but I'm not leaving you, Joss. If that's what you're afraid of, you don—"

"Tig, no, it's nothing like that." Joss said quickly, the tap tap tap of something expanding inside her right side ever increasing. "I don't know what it is," she admitted, looking up into his ice blue eyes. "But you're right; it's not my normal thing."

Tig was about to say something, but somewhere on the floor, buried beneath the garish heap of tulle and organdy, his cell was ringing. He sighed. "That would be Clay…telling me he couldn't keep Gemma on the phone any longer."

"Yeah," Joss sighed sadly, and she was tearing up again…damn it! "She'll be coming back here soon…you better…go." She sniffled a little as she said the last word, and preemptively wiped at her eye.

"No, c'mon Joss…" Tig begged, stroking her hair and then pulling her close again. "Don't cry…you cry and it puts me in a whole different kind of hell I don't wanna be in…you mean too fucking much to me to see you cryin', little girl, so please, I'm begging you, stop…I can't take it."

"I'm sorry," Joss replied, almost squeaked because her throat was so tight with how she tried to make the budding tears stop, but a few escaped anyway.

"No," Tig had been gathering his stuff back together, but he stopped, taking her under the chin and making her stare into his eyes like he was hers. "Look at me," he told her, and Joss knew what that meant, snap to, get it together, he was serious, he'd talk and she'd listen. "We gotta talk about this," Tig said, indicating her tears, and the way she realized she was clinging to him like a child to a favorite teddy bear. "Not now, but we gotta see what this is before it hurts you."

Joss nodded, taking a deep breath and Tig kissed her quickly then went back to getting himself together. "When will I see you again?" She asked, the dull ache in her right side becoming ever more potent, but right now, her breaking heart overshadowed it.

"As soon as I can get to you," he promised, but didn't look at her because he knew she was likely crying again…and she was, a little…she couldn't help it. "It's all I'll be thinking about, Joss. You know that."

She nodded sadly and reached for her own clothes beneath the mound of tulle…it was so hard not to clutch her side…it was really kicking up a storm now, but she couldn't say goodbye to Tig and leave him with that worry…he was already worried about enough where she was concerned. "I love you," she told him. "So it better be all you think about!" Joss managed to smile, realizing she couldn't face Gemma as some emotional, side clutching mess either.

Tig smiled as he re-tied his knife to his leg. "Hey, you got the shoot next week; I'll be with you for all of that!" He suddenly remembered, and Joss had initially smiled excitedly, but then not so much as another thought trampled upon the photo shoot one, but Tig read it and just smiled again and sighed. "But yeah, you'll see me before then too…don't worry."

The way he understood her made Joss smile even more, though the muscle pull was thumping away with its unhappiness, but Tig was leaving, and that was her focus…so was not crying. "I think I have to be worried now." She said, smirking a little at him, trying so hard to hide her pain and her heartbreak.

"Why?" Tig asked, smiling back a little as he slid his arms through his cut, but there was concern in his blue eyes as well.

"Because," Joss giggled a bit now, and her eyes shifted down to the massive, white, tulle beast that surrounded them both. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her Hostess Sno Ball dress before the wedding…"


	10. Square Pegs and Round Holes

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 10

"Nine hundred and twenty-four dollars for a dress the girl's going to wear one time?" Joss could hear Clay bellowing at Gemma in the kitchen even though Joss was safely back in her room…Jax's old room…whatever…she just wanted to go home! She was tucked up in a little ball, leaning against the wall on the full size bed, listening to her "lawyer" as she'd come to call Clay in her mind, going to battle for her "rights." Though Clay wasn't making it look that way of course, but he was standing by his word to not let anything she truly couldn't stand be forced upon her…and when Clay had returned home and asked how the dress shopping went, well, Joss had to tell him…and when he didn't seem to believe that any garment could be as bad as what she'd described, Joss had a cellphone picture she'd taken at the ready to show him. The freak of a dress was still at the shop, waiting to be tailored…so it was a good thing Joss had thought to take that picture! And now, Clay was in with Gemma, making the whole thing a money issue! Clay…she loved him!

Gemma was staunchly fighting for Joss's dress though…yeah…sure, "Joss's dress;" that mistake in tulle was all Gemma's dress! "Is it my fault that California's God damn sales tax is eight point seven five percent on the dollar?"

"Sales tax or not, it's a thousand bucks!" Insisted Clay, and Joss heard paper flutter…ah, Clay was holding the receipt for the dress…nice touch! "And what's this? 'Cost of alterations to be determined?'" He paused a moment, then his voice was a little louder. "You mean we're not done paying for it yet?"

"Clay, the alterations can't be more than about fifty dollars!" Gemma spat. "Joss needs more room in the top of it; you want her popping out of it like a hot tube of biscuit dough when she says 'I do?'"

"I want her in something that ain't gonna cost me a thousand bucks!" Clay bellowed again unimpressed, and Joss heard him slam the receipt down on the counter for added effect. "And no tiara's, absolutely not," he persisted vehemently, and Joss smiled, because it was obvious that she hadn't been the only one to share some concerns with Clay. "You have no idea how degrading they are to that kid back there, and I'm not standing by and watch you turn her into some show dog again in your pursuit of creating some lame ass fairy tale!"

"You watch what you're saying!" Gemma warned with her own vehemence, but then she sighed. "But yeah, I screwed up with the tiara, you're right, it's out."

Oh those words made Joss so relieved…and she sighed herself, tucked up as she was against the wall, and now crossed her fingers that the hideous dress would follow the tiara. Clay and Tig…she had to two incredible men on her side, looking out for her.

"And the dress goes back too," Clay declared. "End of story."

Gemma sighed again, but this time it was not in resignation. "Why are you being such a fucking tyrant?"

"It's my God damn money, that's why!" Clay shouted, really putting his authority behind his words, and that seemed to have quieted Gemma. Wow, was that it? It was over? The tiara was gone, and so was the horrible dress, just like that? Oh God…thank you Clay! Thank you Tig! And thank God for both of them! But, then Joss heard something she never thought she'd hear…and it scared her more than she was prepared to be. Gemma was crying…

"Clay, I'm trying to give Joss and Tig the kind of ceremony they need," she said, and Joss heard the sound of paper towels being ripped off of the role, to blot eyes no doubt, and her heart was pounding in her chest…shit…should she go out there? Fuck…should she give in and agree to the dress from hell? Gemma was crying…and Gemma didn't cry! "You know their union has to be well recognized, and you know it has to have the appropriate power behind it…you can't transfer the keys without everyone knowing the next president is every bit the son of a bitch you are, and certain things have to happen certain ways to get so powerful a point across."

And now Clay sighed resignation…oh no…selfishly Joss worried that her arch nemesis, the Sno Ball dress, was about to be resurrected from the dead. "I am not debating that, Gemma." Clay said, his voice quiet, in fact it was a bit hard to hear him now because his words were muffled. He must have been hugging Gemma, that would make sense, and it made Joss smile a little to know that Gemma was being comforted somehow…but please God…no cupcake dress! "Your heart and your head are in the right place, lady," he told Gemma. "But we both know you're barking up the wrong tree with most of what you're doing here…and you can't fix one kid by piling all his shit onto the other one."

Whoa…Joss's ears pricked forward and her heart really pounded now…this was obviously a Jax thing that Clay was speaking of…but what exactly was going on with her dear "brother?" Clay had told Joss that morning that Gemma was going through some "mommy shit," so yeah, that was obviously a Jax induced problem…but what was the problem? Jax and Tara weren't getting married too, were they? Or…had they already, and not told anyone? Okay, Tara didn't want the club in her life anymore, but Jax, he wouldn't shut the club out of something like his wedding would he? The club was his family! And what about his mother, she was even more his family! If Jax and Tara had gotten married, why would Jax have kept it such a secret? However, if that was it, yeah, it would completely devastate Gemma!

Gemma was still crying, and from the sounds of things, Clay was still holding her…good…Joss hoped Clay held her until she stopped crying…that's what Tig would have done had it been Joss crying. Gemma was hurting…not knowing why was worrying Joss now…and making her recurrently achy oblique throb in sympathy. "I know it's wrong," she heard Gemma admit to Clay. "And I know I'm making Joss hate me," she said, and then sobbed once or twice, Clay softly hissing "shhhh" to her until Gemma stopped just in time, because hearing Gemma that upset about what she'd just said had made Joss tear up as well. "I don't want her to hate me, I couldn't love her more if she were our kid, and I'm trying really fucking hard not to screw up another one of my kids, but," Gemma paused again and sobbed a little more. "But apparently that's all I know how to do as a mother." And then the dam broke, and Gemma's muffled sobs rang out against Clay's shoulder.

Chapter 10; Part 2

Somehow Tig had managed to remain undisturbed at the beat up table in back of the garage, not eating today at lunch, too busy with his research. That no one was around was good, not only did it allow him to focus more, but it also kept a side of him hidden that he'd rather not have to defend in front of anyone too. He knew most of this shit he was reading though…where was the stuff that was going to help him, damn it? And even if he found it, what was he going to do with the information? Still, at least trying to do something was better than waiting around for everything to come crashing down…because that crash was coming, Tig could feel it.

The scraping sound of the crookedly hinged metal back door of the garage opening over the asphalt and gravel pulled Tig's head out of his book. Shit…he couldn't have the last ten minutes of his lunch break to himself? Really? And of course it was Opie wandering out here too…God fucking damn it…how'd Ope always know exactly where Tig didn't want him in particular to appear, and then go there? It was a really odd, annoying kind of sixth sense for Ope to have…but nonetheless, there he stood…and he was staring strangely down at Tig until Tig just couldn't fucking ignore him anymore.

"What?" Tig looked up from the book on the table and half snarled, letting it be known that he'd much rather go back to being alone, but Ope seemed to be immune to hints like that…Jesus fucking Christ, why was Opie always hanging around him now, because it seemed like he was…when the hell did they become BFB's or whatever the fuck…BFB's? What the hell were BFB's? Big Fucking Boobs? No, that's not what he and Opie were….they were BFF's! Yeah…he and Ope were Best Friends Forever! Wait! What the fuck? No, they absolutely weren't that either! Aw fuck! Somehow, this was a Big Fuckin' Bovine's fault…Tig just knew it…cows! Where the hell had they come from? No…no…no…moooooooooooo! God fucking damn it! What the flaming hell did Opie want anyway?

"I've never seen you read before," Opie commented as he sat down on the other side of the warped wood picnic table, a can of soda and a bag of pretzels in his hand. Tig sneered, but Ope didn't seem to mind, he just craned his neck to read the spine of the book in front of Tig, "'The Reality of Repressed Memories and Psychoanalysis?'" Ope looked strangely at Tig and shook his head, laughing a little bit for some reason. "If you're preparing for married life, you're really trying too hard, bro."

"No, man," Tig grumbled, pulling the book a little closer to himself, like he was hiding it from Opie, but what was the point now? "I'm trying to help Joss, okay? Leave me alone."

"Joss?" Ope's eyebrows raised and he sat a little straighter. "What's wrong with her? What happened?" The words flew out of Opie's mouth as fast as Tig imagined his heart must have been pounding. "Was it her fall off of the horse? You've got to do something about tha—"

"Ope!" Tig shouted, finally ending the nervous, concerned gibberish spilling from Opie's lips, then Tig sighed, "Jesus fucking Christ, can't you for once not make me regret saying her name out loud around you?"

Opie's shoulders stooped…fuck…the guy really was trying…and Tig knew what it was to be in love with Joss and not fucking want to be, that was Tig's life, compounded by the facts that he went to bed without her every night now, and spent all day worrying about how she was doing. Opie…he couldn't help it the same way Tig couldn't help it…but Joss belonged to Tig…Opie was going to have 'help it!' "Sorry, man." Ope said, but looked up again at Tig and took a deep breath. "But you gotta understand I just can't pretend I didn't hear things like that…you can't tell me she needs help, and then not expect me to react."

"Yeah," Tig sighed…fuck, this was such a strange acquaintance he and Ope had…both in love with the same girl, and both aware of it, but only one of them would ever have her. Shit, in any other club, there'd have been blood spilled over this…and if Tig didn't know that one day he was going to need a man like Ope, there would have been blood spilled in SAMCRO too. Besides, Ope was trying…and after what Tig had taken away from him…yeah, Tig deserved to suffer Opie's affection for Joss. "Joss is," Tig started, trying to think of the right way to put this that wouldn't rouse Opie to further action, but that also wouldn't make Joss sound as though she was about to have a mental break…at least, Tig hoped she wasn't cruising for a mental break, but really, with the way things were and her always desperately clutching him, she might've been. "I don't know what she is," Tig finally admitted. "I just know something's got her fucked up. I can't get her off of me when I get to see her, she's like a God damn leech, and every time I leave, she's bawling like she'll never see me again."

"Maybe that's because you called her a 'leech.'" Opie said flatly, his eyes shining coldly towards Tig.

"Sorry," fuck, what was he thinking saying that in front of Op—wait! Did he just apologize for calling his own old lady a "leech?" And to Ope? Oh hell no! "Look, she's my God damn leech, and I'll call her any kind of sucking thing I wanna call her! She's my tick! My mosquito! My anteater!"

"What?" Ope was shaking his head and looking at Tig like he had no idea what he was talking about…which would have made sense. "Anteaters don't 'suck,' they have a long, sticky tongue."

Huh. How…interesting…a long, sticky tongue…long, sticky tongue…Tig smiled a bit, lost in thought…long, sticky tongue…wow, cows really paled by comparison…hey, what sound did an anteater make? No matter…Tig was good with what he knew, nodding his head, "Alright!"

"Oh come on, man!" Ope groaned and immediately reached across the table. "Gimme the book, you need some help too!" He quipped, getting one hand on the cover and trying to pull it away, but Tig snapped out of his anteater…whatever it was, and yanked the book away from Opie's prying grasp.

"Hey, I need this, God damn it!" Tig grit out through clenched teeth and wished again that Ope had never come out here…Opie made his mind do such stupid shit…okay, so his mind did a lot of stupid shit all the time, but prior to Opie's arrival, Tig was so focused on the book, so focused on what sounded like Joss's predicament, turning pages with so much eagerness to see if the answer to how to help his sweet, dark angel open up was on the other side. "Joss needs me!"

Opie left the book alone now but hunched over towards Tig like he was about to tell him a secret or something. He was shaking his head though, looking at Tig like he had some high expectations of what Tig was going to do to help Joss. "She wants to be close to you, and so you're reading about how to psychoanalyze why she'd want that? Is that really what she 'needs' from you?"


	11. Royal Pain

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 11

"If you've still got pain by tonight, then I don't care what you say, we're going to the hospital!" Gemma was concerned, Gemma only wanted what was best for Joss, Gemma didn't want Joss to be living with chronic and sudden bursts of side splitting soreness any longer…Joss chanted that inside her head, forcing herself to bear not just Gemma's hospital threat, but also the gruff, annoyed and angry way she was making it. Joss had never seen Gemma so stressed out before, and she'd definitely never known Gemma to cry! That this Jax thing was affecting Gemma so much had made Joss vow to herself to be pleasant, and not become one more pain in the ass for Gemma, no matter what…but go to the hospital? No! Okay, so maybe this pulled muscle was taking a long time to heal…that fact was bothering Joss herself a bit now, but it didn't hurt all of the time, and it wasn't impacting anything she did…maybe it inhibited her movements at times, but it was hardly debilitating. Had it been some kind of seriously torn stomach muscle, Joss knew she'd have bled out internally days ago. Her biggest concern had been her appendix, for it was in the same quadrant of her body where the pain always occurred, but Joss was pretty sure she would have been running a fever as well as be suffering a loss of appetite, likely even vomiting, had this been appendicitis. She'd actually researched that one night on Gemma's computer, wondering herself if surgery was lurking in her immediate future…to ruin her wedding…which would have been good in that she absolutely hated the wedding Gemma was planning, but bad in the aspect that above all else, Joss just wanted to marry Tig, and go back home with him, and be his, all and entirely his, for the rest of their lives. Luckily, the awful, froo-froo wedding seemed to be a more likely threat than surgery, for despite all of Joss's research, nothing seemed to match up with any of the "serious medical maladies" that Joss was able to discover.

Gemma's wedding…that was in itself enough to make Joss's side hurt…it was certainly making her nauseous. The Hostess Sno Ball dress was gone, returned, drawn and quartered by order of the king, but another detestable mass of white satin and organza had popped up in its place, kind of like shark teeth. Joss wasn't sure just what it was about ballgown style wedding dresses that appealed to Gemma, but Gemma had selected yet another…which was like a scaled back version of the nearly one thousand dollar monstrosity she'd initially purchased. The skirt of the new dress was nowhere near the crazy splendor of the first, and instead of being strapless, it was a halter style. But right at Joss's midsection, the dress ballooned out into a semi-puffy, handkerchief hem style of tulle skirt, still giving her body that awful triangle shape that Joss was never going to be in love with. And it was still stark white, unabashedly white…who was Gemma trying to fool? Joss had been with a lot of men…a lot of men…and maybe she was marrying the only one she'd ever wanted to spread her legs for, but she'd still been with Tig…a lot…so, white white whitey white white white wasn't really a practical option…it just made her feel dirty. But, at least there was no hoopskirt with this dress…this feathery, nearly floor length, abundant with tulle and organza dress…no more Sno Ball, but Joss sort of felt like she should clip some white plumes into her hair and tie on some flat toed satin slippers to go dance Swan Lake, not get married. The price tag of the Swan Lake dress had been a drastic improvement from the latter, this one was under three hundred dollars, which had made Clay pretend to be pleased, as long as Joss was, but truth be told, Joss hated this "romantic tutu" kind of dress still, but hearing Gemma crying over whatever idiotic, selfish thing Jax was doing had taken the fight right out of Joss. She'd wear the stupid Swan dress and just resist the urge to Chassé down the aisle and then stand there in front of Bobby, beside Tig, on the point of her toes.

But the new, slightly more tolerable dress had managed to burn Joss in the end anyway, for now Gemma had money to spend on other things at the wedding…like now there would be twinkling white lights strung in every tree and shrub, and over the gazebo, of course. There would also be a champagne fountain and each table was now going to have a centerpiece that consisted of white lilies in a tall vase with a white, crowntail beta fish swimming around within it. About the only part of that Joss liked was the beta fish…but she didn't like the idea of them as centerpieces…those poor Vietnamese Fighting Fish…always being exploited somehow…hmm…mean fish…she still needed to get Tig's wedding gift!

Tig…from the moment Joss had opened her eyes this morning she'd been in pain, and from the moment she'd felt the pain, she'd longed for Tig…really longed for Tig, missed him and hurt for him almost nearly as much as the pounding in her right side. But, at least the constant pain had given her something to blame the tears in her eyes on…only it had whipped both Gemma and Clay into a frenzy of worry over her health…on the morning when there had no time for frenzies! Yeah, her side had hurt, it had hurt a lot, a kind of pain Joss had never felt before, but the tears weren't for that pain…they for the want of her man…she was in agony, and she needed the strength and the protection of her mate to feel better, only it wasn't there.

It had been a rushed morning with Clay leaving early for work, to get a jump on the garage schedule, being that Gemma would be late today. Gemma would be late because she was going to the photo shoot with Joss, well, at least she was staying long enough to set the tone of how her client, Joss, was to be handled and also to collect the money, up front, and then Gemma would leave for the garage…unless of course there was a problem. Gemma was no more than a phone call away even if she wasn't on the shoot…it made out of town photographers and their entourage, believe that Gemma had other clients to deal with, and the more clients, the more powerful the agent/manager, and so photographers tended to fall in line with whatever Gemma said.

Clay's early arrival to work was also due to Joss's other "representative" on the shoot. Gemma handled the business end of this modeling thing, but Tig gave final approval to everything, and he'd be leaving work early to go and be with Joss and make sure there weren't any pictures being taken of anything he wasn't willing to share with the world. It was leaving Clay with no manager in the morning, and short a mechanic in the afternoon, and all three of them, Clay, Gemma and Joss were all racing out of the house at the same time. Only Joss hadn't been able to do much 'racing;' she'd barely been able to stand up straight with the knot of misery that had formed in her right side…panicking both Clay and Gemma, who had been about to whisk her out the door and over to Saint Thomas's when Joss's churning mind and broken heart gutted out one last wish for Tig's arms around her, and 'poof,' the pain was gone. But Joss kind of figured adrenaline had been behind that! She would be with Tig for several hours today, and Joss was so excited about seeing him that she'd barely slept all night. She loved this feeling of anticipation that came whenever she knew she'd be seeing her man, but she didn't really understand it…so much excitement would have been understandable if Tig had been gone for weeks or months, but as it was, Joss generally was able to see him at least once every day, thanks to Clay. And still, this exhilaration bubbled inappropriately within her just as her over defined grief did whenever she and Tig parted. But bit by bit, Joss felt like some things were beginning to make sense.

She could find no medical reasons for her pain, and it seemed to be worsening now instead of fading…and when it hit, Tig was always her first thought. Could it be that what had started as a pulled stomach muscle from a fall off of Sam had now become some of kind psychosomatic pain of separation from her man? She did love Tig with all that she had and all that she was; he was difficult and dangerous and hated every second of being in love with her, everything she had from him, everything he gave her, had been hard fought for, which in Joss's opinion only made it more genuine and powerful than what other couples shared. It was one thing to happily love someone, but it was another to love someone so much that in spite of how abhorrent and afraid of it either person was, neither could deny it. What Joss and Tig felt for each other made them so incredibly strong together, but maybe it was destroying them…well, Joss at least, when they were apart? Hmm…that wasn't normal…or even natural…was it?

"Joss!" Gemma's tone was more than just flustered, it was crossing over into angry now…shit, how long had Gemma been talking to Joss without Joss noticing?

"Sorry!" Joss responded with a tight throat. "I'm just thinking about the shoo—."

"Bullshit, we both know what you were thinking about…or more appropriately 'who' you were thinking about." Gemma griped. "You've got the rest of your life with him; I think you can spare the next few days to worry about your wedding. Show a little maturity." She scolded, but kept her eyes straight ahead, almost like she wasn't trying to hurt Joss's feelings and maybe Gemma wasn't.

Joss inwardly sighed, what exactly was mature about creating some stupid princess party? But, she'd promised herself, and Clay for that matter, that she'd do her best to make Gemma happy, and nothing made Gemma happier than being asked for her advice…and Joss could use an answer about her psychosomatic-missing Tig-pain in her side theory. "Gemma," she began, looking over at her as Gemma drove, and Joss began to wonder how to ask this, what words to use that wouldn't make it sound crazy…but it probably was crazy. "Do you think it's possible to become addicted to someone? And then suffer withdrawal symptoms when you can't be with them?"

Gemma sighed and shook her head, but Joss couldn't tell whether she was purely concerned, or actually pissed off that Joss had sort of insinuated that Gemma's forced separation of Tig from Joss and Joss from Tig was somehow detrimental to them both. But finally Gemma looked over at Joss with a mother's loving eyes. "You're not 'addicted' to Tig." She said knowingly. "Addiction is selfish, it's only about what you want and how you feel, and that's not what I see when I watch you and Tigger together."

Joss nodded, and she also smiled, that was good to hear! "But, is it possible to be too into someone? To love them so much that you can't function when you're not with them…or…get massive pain in your side?" Joss added, now feeling so silly for doing so.

"I thought that was from the horse?" Gemma's eyes shifted over towards Joss again. "Why would not being with Tig make your side hurt?"

"I don't know," Joss admitted, shrugging her shoulders then sighing. "It was just a theory." A theory she still for some reason believed…so much of this need to be close to Tig seemed to like it had something to do with the recurring pain in her side…but what?

Gemma sighed too, glancing over at Joss like she knew something Joss didn't then looked out at the road again. "You really wanna hear what I think?"

Joss hesitated, but tried hard not to let it show…but please God, don't let something come out of Gemma's mouth that was going to make Joss want to fight with her again! "Yeah, I do."

"You're young," Gemma said, and paused, making Joss almost ask what that meant, but finally Gemma started speaking again. "'Young' is good, Tigger needs someone young, he takes energy, he's a lot to keep up with on a lot of different levels, starting with emotionally and mentally," she looked over at Joss again. "I've never seen an old lady more tuned into her old man; words are just frivolous sounds between the two of you, you don't really need them to communicate, you've got some other kind of connection that only you and Tig understand. You get that he's 'young' too, at least when it comes to how to love someone." Gemma's eyes found the road again, putting her turn indicator on as she approached the studio. "I don't want you and Tigger to stop being 'young,' I hope you never do. But I want you both to grow up a little before you try married life." They pulled onto the parking lot of the studio, Joss soaking up Gemma's words and feeling a little stunned that Gemma was revealing a sane reason for the separation she was imposing upon the betrothed. "Right now, I think you and Tigger are both getting acquainted with the little kid inside each of you that demands to be satisfied, no matter what," she said as she parked the SUV. "And you both have to learn to get control of it," Gemma paused, then sighed, glanced at Joss again, but once more looked away, but this time Joss could tell it was because Gemma was trying to hide the hurt in her own eyes. "Spoiled brats rarely make good leaders."


	12. Bodyguard

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 12

Jax had so much to do that he just couldn't make it into work for the last four days…so why was it today of all days that he could suddenly afford to be here, and "have to talk to" Clay, and Tig on top of it? This wasn't going to be good, if it weren't some kind of problem, then Jax would have kept his mouth shut until church on Friday…but no, whatever new demand Jax was making, it wasn't good, Tig could feel it, and while it was imperative to know what the little prince was up to, this meeting was also running into something else that was important…Joss's photo shoot! God fucking damn it…Tig had to be there, he had to see Joss; he had to be with her! It wasn't enough that Tig only got to see her once every day, but to not see her at all today? No…Tig wouldn't make it through the day…and neither would anyone else who got too close to him. Not only did Tig miss Joss, but not knowing what was going on at the shoot, and how they had her dressed, or undressed, and what poses they were making her strike for the camera, was killing him.

A million terrible scenarios were running through his mind, and he just knew that one day he'd be checking something on a computer, which he rarely ever did, but he'd no doubt have some picture of his Joss pop up with some…inappropriately placed zucchini or whatever. Okay, she was modeling a line of vintage inspired clothing…there were likely no zucchinis, or carrots, or cucumbers…no ears of corn, or stalks of celery, or heads of lettuce…heads of lettuce? What the fuck could be going on with that? Whatever, the worry truly was killing him…and not knowing when he'd get to see Joss was killing him more. Joss…he hated how much he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her tightly…they'd been together so long now that they fit together, each knowing their place in whatever embrace they shared, whether he disallowed Joss's arms to be around him, or if he let her hold him…let her hold him…he wanted to let her hold him now...and that was some kind of shitty desire to wake up with each morning too! That damn girl…she really had turned his life into something that he never saw coming, or thought he'd fight so hard to protect.

Protect…yeah, he had to stay and hear Jax's latest problem…John Teller's knothead son, in some effort to promote himself to Clay as a new breed of sensible badass, had made some deals with the wrong people, and those wrong people stood to shorten the life of SAMCRO. Whether he was the king or still the prince, Tig wasn't about to let that happen to his club. Protect the club; protect Joss and what they had together. That was the greatest truth in Tig's life now, he'd roamed free for several years, but he'd never felt his freedom quite as much as he did until he had Joss to share it with. Yeah, Tig had to be present in the chapel to find out what Jax's latest issue was, but Tig also had to handle what he could handle with Joss…he had to do something to stop any lewd vegetable interactions, or anything like whatever else wandered through his twisted mind, from happening. She was special, but not in the way that every old man thought his old lady was special, because no one had an old lady like Joss, no one! That damn girl was worthy of being celebrated in photographs, but at the same time, no one was good enough to create the very art that she so justly deserved to be venerated within. Tig had to be there on that shoot, to make sure his Joss was depicted as the sweet, dark, perfect angel she was…but how did he do that and be in the chapel at the same time? The answer was startling…but made sense.

"Ope," Tig couldn't believe he'd actually thought of this, and then was actually doing it…this was probably a mistake…it was going to end up being worse than Tig's imagined zucchini pictures of Joss…but here he was, saying Opie's name and walking towards him through the tire bay…what the fuck? God damn Jax Teller…now and then he said or did something that Tig could get behind, but largely the boy never had been anything more than a whining brat who acted like the club, and everyone in it, owed him something. This was really Jax's fault…Jax was screwing things up for Tig's peace of mind…which Tig rarely ever had to begin with, and Jax was threatening Joss's honor without Tig there to protect it…what? Joss's 'honor?' Was Tig suddenly some kind of Knight of the Round Table out to defend the fair maiden? What was next? Present Joss with his lance as her protection and then kneel down in front of her and request some favor of hers to wear within his helmet, before going off to win a jousting tournament and proclaim her the tournament's queen of love and beauty? Fuck…if it meant keeping Joss safe and getting to see her, hell yeah, he was fucking Sir Tigalahad, slayer of lettuce heads! Wait…why the fuck did he know all this knight shit? Maybe he was a knight in some previous life…that would be cool as shit, man! And yet, Sir Tigalahad was turning to Sir Chewbadoobalot for assistance? Holy shit…this could go wrong in so many ways…Tig knew it…so why was he doing it?

"Yeah?" Opie looked away from the Jeep Cherokee on the lift with that desperate for Tig's attention glint in his eyes that always seemed to be there. It was such an annoying thing to see, to know that Ope was doing his best to make up for his out of bounds interactions with, and feelings for, Joss. Tig had no way of making right Donna's death…all he could do was let Ope have what he had for Joss, and respect that it was there. Only sometimes, it was like Opie was trying way too hard to have a friendship with Tig…Tig didn't want that…brotherhood was fine, but how in hell could Opie be friends with him when Tig had killed Donna, and how in hell could Tig be friends with Ope when Ope was in love with Joss? But shit, could that have been why Ope always seemed to be following Tig around, appearing when Tig least wanted him to, and not discouraged by Tig's sneers and snarls? It was some crazy ass pursuit of friendship? Really? No…they'd never be friends…they were similar; Tig had to acknowledge that they were, but they weren't friends! No…all the shit in their pasts just didn't gel into anything solid; friendship was based on trust, and how could either of them ever trust the other? Fuck…but here Tig was, about to send an untrustworthy emissary into a delicate situation? God damn it…why was he doing this? "What you need, bro?" Ope asked, sounding eager when Tig had gone suddenly silent with his gut churning thoughts. It wasn't too late to not to do this…but despite his better judgment and overactive imagination, Tig wasn't 'not doing it.'

"I need a favor," Tig began, and continued to mentally kick himself even harder. "I got this meeting with Jax I just found out abou—"

"Hmm," Opie suddenly stood there shaking his head. "He's been hard to figure lately, got a lot of things on his mind and can't make any of them work for him."

Shit…there were three names Tig knew better than to say to Ope and the first one was "Donna," the second one was "Joss," and the last one was "Jax." However…just what did Opie think about his friend, Jax? They were pretty tight, always had been, except for lately, as far as Tig had noticed anyway. Was Jax not keeping in touch with Ope either? "Yeah," Tig agreed, carefully thinking of his next words. "He's like the Tasmanian Devil; doesn't have a clue where he's going, but he's going to get there really fast."

Opie sighed and looked eye to eye with Tig in a way that actually did impress Tig, "As long as the club knows where we're going," he said with a definite conviction, and once again Tig had to admit he was impressed. "We can be there for Jax when he needs us."

Shit…that wasn't exactly the ending to that sentence that Tig was looking for, but he did take solace in the fact that even Ope seemed to recognize that Jax was more and more an outsider, letting his other business come before the club, whether Jax realized it himself or not. But how could that not be noticed by the club? No one "took days off" from SAMCRO…no one except Jax Teller, apparently! If he pulled that shit in any other club, where his mama wasn't there to protect him, Jax would be exiled or mysteriously "gone." Maybe it didn't mean anything that Ope noticed his buddy Jax was lacking as far as the club went…but then, for far too many years now Jax's personal shit flavored club business anyway, how could Ope not notice that? "Yeah, we could be there for him," Tig said, but not in the most agreeing of tones, and stressing the word "could." Yeah…they "could" be there…if SAMCRO wanted to be there…but if the club was Tig's and if Jax left this club, then under Tig's reign, that was it, there'd be no getting back in, and no handouts either…that was for damn sure!

"So," Ope asked again, either not noticing the attitude Tig had just shared concerning Jax, or maybe Ope was over the whole Jax thing? He gave no clues as to his thoughts, just started gathering lug nuts from the Jeep Cherokee into his hand. "You need me to finish up that Honda you started? Could be awhile with Clay and Jax."

"No, it ain't the Honda," Tig shook his head and wished he wasn't about to say what he was going to say…but there weren't really any other options…Tig did know why he was doing this, why he'd picked Ope…he just hated to admit it. "I need you to go…" he paused; it was so difficult to make himself say this, even though he knew he was going to. "Fuck, I don't believe I'm asking you this, man…but, I need someone over with Joss at the photo shoot, cuz I've got this fucking Jax thing, and I can't be two places at once."

Opie's expression went blank and he looked like Tig had just whopped him over the head with the Crescent Wrench. The lug nuts that Ope had been about to transfer into a magnetic dish suddenly spilled from his hand and clattered to the ground, rolling around by his and Tig's feet. "What?"

Tig sighed…shit, he hadn't expected that reaction from Ope, and now Tig was worrying about Opie's confidence in himself to be around Joss and not…do…anything. Holy fuck, Tig wasn't setting Ope up for failure here, was he? The guy had been trying, and other than a few minor slip ups that had occurred when Ope thought Joss was in danger, he'd been doing really good, and that was one of the reasons Tig had thought that maybe…just maybe…Opie was a good choice of whom to send over to the studio…but fuck…what if this really was a mistake? "Hey, if you don't think you can hand—"

"No, man." Ope was quick to reply, and he looked at Tig with that eagerness to please shining in his eyes. "It's not that, I just…I mean, you, Tig Trager, owner and future husband of Joss, want me to go over and keep her safe? Really?" There was a bit of a touched smile edging Opie's lips, and he drew in a funny breath. "I'm…shocked…that you have that kind of trust in me, that's all."

God damn it! How had this turned into some 'father handing his son the keys to the good car' moment? Jesus fucking Christ…did Tig trust Opie? Fuck, he must have! Now Tig hated this whole scene for a completely different reason than his original ones; this had become some fucking bonding thing! Time to bust this bullshit up! "No, I 'trust' you to go over there and try to stick your hand down her pants, that's what I 'trust' you to do!" He said curtly, but then immediately gagged on his own words…fuck! Fan-fucking-tastic! Of all the times to be acting like a sarcastic asshole! Great, make Opie start thinking about having a handful of Joss's sweet, cute, little cooch, right before Tig sent him out to watch over her photo shoot! What a dumbass thing to say! Fucking Jax Teller…this was all his fault!

Opie took a step back from Tig like he was trying to put distance between Tig's fist and the thoughts abounding in his big ol' skull cap adorned, Chewbadooba head, thanks to Tig's remark…or, hmm…maybe Ope was repulsed…he kinda looked put off, and the guy did have mad respect for Joss. "Um," Opie swallowed hard and looked like he didn't want to be talking about this, which he probably didn't…Tig sure as hell didn't want to discuss it anymore either, but Ope met eyes with Tig again. "Is this a test?"

"No!" Tig couldn't help but shout, but then pulled all the misplaced anger back within himself…he'd come to ask a favor of Opie, not bust a cap…the asking of favors, from a brother no less, shouldn't have been riddled with angry words and tones…when brothers respected brothers, the club lived forever…that's exactly what Tig wanted to be the hallmark of his ruler-ship. He sighed and looked back at Ope again. "Sorry," he told him, muttering it a bit, but Ope nodded like he somehow understood, but Tig was barely aware of it, just decided to explain his choice as quickly as possible, and maybe he wouldn't notice he was saying what he was saying. "Look, I'm sending you because you're the only person I know who would object to the same shit I'd object to if it started going down on that photo shoot. You wouldn't let some God damn camera faggot take a picture of her with her tits hanging all out anymore than I would." Opie was nodding, and he didn't seem fazed, and didn't appear to be daydreaming about any of Joss's goodies, no matter that Tig kept referring to them…because his stupid fucking brain and stupid fucking mouth just refused to connect! Connect…damn…how disappointed was Joss going to be when Opie showed up in place of her old man? Fuck…Tig was already hurting for her. "But listen, there's more to it than just that. Don't let her cry, okay? Cuz she's going to ask you where I am, and since you can't really tell her, she's going to think she won't see me today, and she's going to start bawling, man." Tig sighed…he could see the tears welling in Joss's sparkling peridot eyes now. "But you don't let her cry!" He half growled at Ope. "You tell her I ain't leavin' her, and that I will be with her today! We good on that?"

"Not a problem," Ope nodded assuredly, but then grimaced a bit, like he was seeking some kind of encouragement. "Hey, if you decide you might want Bobby to do this, I just want you to know I understand, okay bro?"

Tig shook his head, his thoughts so full of Joss's broken heart to come that he actually responded to what Ope had said. "I thought about sending Bobby," Tig began, and all of a sudden realized he was about to sure up something for Ope that he wasn't certain should be sured up. Tig wanted to make clear that he'd chosen Opie out of necessity, not because he'd wanted to have some bridge to their future friendship. "But Joss has a way with Bobby…if she thinks something in a photo is a good idea, but Bobby knows I'd fucking hate it and he objects, she can smile and laugh with Bobby and start talking about matzo balls or some shit, and he'll give in and let her do whatever the fuck she wants." Tig looked levelly at Ope. "You won't cave like that, I know you won't let her do some kinda shit that could hurt her."

"Yeah," Ope grunted and was nodding his head emphatically, both his hands clenched into some kind of fists, reminding Tig of a middle linebacker he'd played ball with in college when the team was about to take the field, and everyone of them was psyched up. Good, that's the kind of enthusiasm and dedication Tig was looking for when it came to keeping Joss safe. "I'd rather make her hate me for saying 'no' to something than have something come back to bite her in the ass!" There was a fervor behind Ope's words that made Tig both smile and cringe all at the same time…he smiled because of how on the same page Ope was with him, but cringed that Ope could actually love the woman Tig owned so much. Damn this was a treacherous amount of devotion, for both Ope and Tig! And then as if to seal that revelation, and also fuck with Tig's mind even more, Ope gave him a sharp, saluting kind of nod, like a bow almost. "I wouldn't let it come back on you either, bro."


	13. The Future of the Past

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 13

She'd see Tig today, he'd promised her that…of course, he'd promised through Opie, but still, Tig swore she'd see him today! There was a time when Tig never made promises to her, until one day when he'd promised that he wouldn't let anyone hurt her; that had been what kept Joss from questioning Opie's presence…if Tig had sent him, then Tig had his reasons…Tig wouldn't let anyone hurt her, Joss knew that, so however it had happened or been decided, Opie was okay…at least he was today, but who knew about tomorrow? She'd plotted to kill Ope once, but even then she'd known he was a good man, a good man that Joss liked…but for obvious reasons, she could never be close to Ope. He was here to act in Tig's stead, and she'd do her best to respect the authority that Tig had therefore given him…within the boundaries of being Tig's property, of course. Tig…she'd see him today, he'd promised.

Joss had that at least then…but still, it was fortunate that the mystique and majesty of the vintage looks Joss was modeling called for her to look elegantly bored, and not for her to be some smiling party girl, because she just couldn't have smiled now…not when Opie had shown up instead of her man. God, she loved Tig…and though she trusted that she would still see him today…somehow…when Opie had explained that Tig couldn't make it to the shoot, something in her that had been bounding out of control with happiness earlier that day had shriveled and died, and now it was a heaviness within her, clunking around…and the pain in her side was threatening to blast her again…yeah, real or imagined, how could that pain not be somehow related to not being with Tig?

"No no no," this photographer was fussy and Joss didn't get him. He was always putting her in some pose, nearly snapping a picture, then moving her, or changing the light, or adding a prop, or taking one away, or changing her make-up. "Lean a little more across the hood, but don't really put all your weight on it!" He instructed; face hidden by a gigantic lens, and out of the corner of her eye, Joss saw Opie flinch and his head jerked towards the photographer, but Ope didn't move. Well, maybe it was the look on her own face that had prompted Opie to react, Joss wasn't so enthused with this anymore…though the set, with the blue and white 1959 Ford Galaxy, was pretty cool. There were very realistic looking Weeping Willow trees behind her and the car, complete with a big silvery moon and off in the distance of the drop-back, a beautiful lake glistened in the moonlight. The setting was some make out spot that inspired thoughts of teenage lovers in the fifties…but all it made Joss think of was her man…she wanted to make out with him…they sometimes did, ardently and elaborately, creating new ways to kiss one another that seemed always to involve Tig's shirt coming off…oh God did she love his broad, hairy chest…yeah…Joss wanted her man!

"Hello Dolly," came a snide call to attention from Ogdred…photographers, Joss rolled her eyes; she'd yet to meet a professional one with a normal name…Ogdred…that was it, no last name. The tall, lanky, too hip for his own good, "artist" ran his hands through his Justin Bieber like hair and sighed, Joss inwardly cringing one more time at the skinny jeans Ogdred wore…honestly, low rise skinny jeans on men? No! Not unless they wanted to look gay! But then, maybe Ogdred was…Justin Bieber probably was too. Ogdred Bieber was sighing again hitting his bottle of water as if Joss were really taxing him. "I want you against the car, babydoll! It's there for a reason!"

Joss sighed herself but didn't bother to answer…the one thing she'd learned in no time flat was that models didn't talk, but whether that was because they were too good to have to express themselves verbally, or because they were completely at the mercy of the jackass with the camera, Joss wasn't sure yet…but she may know by the end of this shoot! This was nowhere near as much fun as her first photo shoot, and it was showing in her expressions every now and then, and every time it did, Opie leaned forward in his chair, eying her as if he was waiting for some signal from her to shut this whole thing down. But Joss had ignored him most of the time, worrying about how Opie was interpreting things wasn't something she currently had energy for. She was too busy mourning the loss of her time with Tig and contemplating all the definitions of "against the car," because no matter how she put any part of herself on the car, it just didn't fit Ogdred's "vision."

Well, she did look perfect at least…she had to admit that even if it was so very vain to do so, but it was more the look she'd been given for the dress she modeled; an original 1950's Ceil Chapman form fitting wiggle dress in red chiffon, with a gracefully wide cut squared neckline that was nearly off the shoulder, and the chiffon was gathered into classic draped pleating across her midsection and hips that gave her silhouette an "extra" hourglass-y kind of shape. The sleeves were short, but she wore long, black, stretch-satin gloves that came above her elbows, and the stockings she wore were also black, sheer black, with that sexy little line up the back, the knee length skirt showing it off nicely. And her hair…it was done with soft, cascading waves that hung over her left shoulder, with deep parts and peek-a-boo bangs…it was all really something, Joss had never seen herself like this, neither had Tig, and she wished he could…okay, he'd see the pictures…but still…oh God, what she wouldn't have given to be able to snuggle against that broad, hairy chest right now, and have the power in those tattooed arms wrap around her…

"Honey!" The fussy, thin man with the camera and stupid hair was piping up again. "No, don't lean on the car, look more like you've been thrown down against it, it's not that difficult, just let yourself get lost in some fantasy of being flung down by one of your…bikers."

Joss rolled her eyes again but stood once more and prepared to "fall" against the car, but her security detail was now on his feet and looking anxiously at her as he pointed to Ogdred. In no time Joss had read the words on Ope's lips and she had to giggle a little bit, because Ope was asking her, "You want me to kick his ass?"

But Joss shook her head, a little bit touched that Ope was being so protective…Tig would have been proud, but then, it wasn't so hard to figure out why Opie was being so protective, and that reason wouldn't have made Tig proud. Opie's willingness to shut Ogdred down was sweet, but it too made Joss long for Tig…but then, if Tig were here, Ogdred would be bleeding on the floor right now. Tig didn't ask if Joss wanted someone's ass kicked, he just jumped in and commenced kicking ass; at least she had some control over Opie. And if Ogdred kept it up, hmm…maybe she'd sanction Ope's boots pounding those little skinny jeans right off of Ogdred's girly little legs.

Opie took his seat again, but his eyes were on Ogdred now, glaring at him though Ogdred's back was to Ope most of the time and the threat was lost on the whining, Bieber haired bastard. But that was okay, because Joss finally found a rhythm between herself and her photographer, and for once there'd been more clicking of shutters and words of praise than there had been complaints and critical intentions, but Ope sat there and glared all the way through, like he was just waiting for Ogdred to fall out of line again…but everything was fine, until they changed sets and scenes, the 1959 Galaxy being moved away and an old movie starlet style vanity set was being moved in, complete with all of the light bulbs framing the mirror. Joss had been looking forward to putting on this next vintage item as soon as she'd seen it on the rack today! She'd loved the gorgeously restored red chiffon dress, but this peignoir set she was slipping her arms into the sheer robe of…this was elegant luxury!

But maybe it was too sheer? The spaghetti strap, sheath gown had salmon colored satin covering her breasts, though it was a bit low cut. The rest of it, from beneath her bust line down to the floor, was nothing but sheer white rayon, with the sheer white robe, trimmed in salmon colored satin to match. When she'd stepped out, Ope had taken one look at her and averted his eyes respectfully, and without looking up at her asked. "Did Tig know about this?"

But Joss smiled, yeah, of course Tig knew about this…but like Tig knew what a peignoir was! "Did he send you with a list of things he didn't want me putting on?" She asked Ope as she checked the up-doo her hair had been pinned into in the lighted mirror of the vintage Hollywood vanity she'd be photographed sitting at. Jesus…the gown was sheer, yes, but her boobs were covered, and she had on a pair of salmon colored satin panties that kept other things hidden too…this was going to be such a fun shoot! This was Goddess wear! And didn't Joss deserve something fun after what she'd put up with earlier? Ope was here to see what that had been like, he had to sympathize with her, didn't he? Besides, what harm was there in wearing this in front of Ogdred? He was probably gay! "I love this set!" Joss smiled, smoothing the sheer rayon with her hand. "I feel like a movie star from the 'Golden Age of Hollywood'!"

Ope still did not look at her. "Yeah," he sighed like he knew he was about to make her unhappy and wasn't happy about doing so himself. He snuck a quick glance at Joss in the sheer, white rayon that she loved so much and shook his head. "But I think this is the kinda thing Tig wanted me here to stop."

Shit…obviously Tig had given Opie a crash course on what kinds of things she was allowed to be photographed wearing, and what Tig only ever wanted to see her in privately. Joss had loved this peignoir set from the moment she'd seen it, but from the moment she'd seen it, she'd also know that Tig would have been pitching a fit about it had he been here as scheduled. Oh come on…Joss wanted to model this peignoir as much as she wanted to keep it! Her next gig was to include the modeling of gothic lingerie…Tig was just going to have to get used to it! "Ope," she sighed, and smiled, doing her best to make him think he was overreacting…though she was already feeling guilty about how Tig was going to roar and rage at him for having let Joss's body be displayed like it would be. "It's okay, I mean we're talking about a nightgown that your grandmother probably wore; it's hardly provocative!"

Ope grimaced then groaned, squirmed in the chair he sat in and squeezed his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. "You couldn't be more wrong about that," he said. "Trust me."

Damn it! Why'd Opie have to be so…male? Well, Tig would have been even more 'male' than that, he owned Joss, and he would have been crazy, angry, possessive 'male,' not just the kind that was hot for her and wasn't about to not notice a see-through nighty when he saw one. But Joss really wanted this! And she wasn't done arguing it with Opie…until Ogdred appeared and in one mouthful of words, lost her battle for her.

"Oh, no one told me you had that tattoo," he sounded as if there was some sudden bad smell in the air, and he was pointing at Joss's tiger on the left side of her body, Ogdred's finger moving through the air like he was scribbling all over it. "We need make-up to get in here and cover that up, it's not going to do."

Admittedly, that had stoked Joss's anger a bit, as well as pulled mercilessly on the strings of her heart…cover up her tiger? But, that was Tig! Tig…oh God did she miss him…and there it was, right on cue, her right side was beginning to throb, distracting her from being able to object to covering her ink, but then she didn't have to speak up herself at all. Opie had jumped to his feet and was now standing there in front of skinny little Ogdred, glaring down at him from Ope's towering height.

"You can't cover that ink," Opie said forcefully. "That's who she belongs to!"

But Ogdred was far too ignorant to back down and looked up at Opie with all the snotty attitude in the world. "She belongs to me right now, and that…mess is ruining the shot!"

Joss's right side was wailing away with pain, that horrible, familiar feeling of something within her being squeezed then released, then squeezed tighter, then released, the intensity building and building until it was all she was aware of…until…how it had happened, she wasn't sure, but Ogdred had been stupid enough to argue with Ope, stupid enough to tell a reaper man that his brother's property was now the property of some ridiculous little skinny jean wearing photographer citizen…Joss had seen Opie's arm drawing back, but her side had hurt so much, she couldn't even stand up straight, let alone attempt to stop Ope's punch…and before she knew it, Ope landed it, caught Ogdred right in the jaw, which seemed to shatter on impact, and the Bieber haired, fussy bitch hit the floor, out cold.

Chapter 13; Part 2

"So, what are you telling Gemma?" Tig asked, trying not to let his thoughts and feelings show full force, but it wasn't easy, and he didn't like how silent Clay had become during the meeting with Jax, and Clay still was quiet sitting her in the chapel, even though Jax had cut out already. "Or, are you telling her anything?"

Clay just shook his head. "She's been feeling for awhile like she's losing her son," he said. "I haven't been denying it, cuz I don't see how this ends any other way myself, but I'm still not willing to confirm what she's been thinking for the last few weeks, because Gemma's definitely not ready to hear the rest of this!"

Tig nodded but he couldn't keep quiet anymore himself. If Clay wanted to keep the queen in the dark, fine, it was actually more respectful of Gemma's feelings and her pride to not tell her everything, but Tig's voice would be heard, to Clay at least. "I say if Jax wants to go, we let him go. What else can we do? Sit around and wait for him to turn informant and bring hell down upon this club?"

Clay sighed and seemed oddly apprehensive. "We can't just give him a free pass outta SAMCRO, and you know that," his blue eyes stared directly into Tig's with so much heaviness that Tig understood even before Clay had seemed to…Gemma…it would kill her, and Tig thought the world of her, but he'd do what needed doing to protect this club. This wasn't like Opie, there was no speculation, Jax had sat right there and said that ATF and FBI had approached him, had made him the offer. Clay was shaking his head again. "I never thought the boy would be in this kind of shit, thought he was smarter than this at least."

"It's not your fault, man." Tig was quick to say. "Jax and that doctor bitch a his are together for a reason; both of them got some fucking attitudes about themselves that prevent them from figuring out this life and fitting into it."

"Yeah," Clay slouched in his chair and sighed again, focusing on the reaper carved into the table top like it might sit up and suddenly join the conversation itself. Clay was speaking in the 'now,' but he was living 'then,' Tig could tell, the old king's eyes a blur of past good times and future strife. "His old man was the same way, came up with a brilliant idea of freedom and brotherhood, defined what both of those things should be and how they'd be respected within this club…but then couldn't walk the walk himself…grew inwardly speculative, trusted the club less and less, decided he was smarter than the rest of us…just fucked himself up with what was real and what was not, then crashed and burned."

Tig nodded though he'd never known John Teller, but he hated to see the look of remaining sorrow on Clay's face for his late best friend…but it wasn't really John's death that Clay still grieved, it was how his closest friend had become a stranger. But Tig wasn't about to do that; Clay needed someone solidly on his side, and Tig was unquestionably there…even if it did mean hurting Gemma…Jesus fucking Christ, that woman stood to have lost her first husband, and both her sons…but Tig had to be cold, he couldn't think about that, and he wouldn't…he loved Gemma, but she wasn't Joss, and Joss, if she knew what was going on, would support her old man, even if what Tig had to do brought tears to her beautiful green eyes…Joss was his angel, and she was perfect enough to save Tig, no matter what he did. Everything was the club for Tig, protect the club, protect Joss, they were the same things to him, they always would be. "You tell me what you want done, Clay. You got me, you know that."

Tig waited for an order to be given, part of him praying for an order to be given…he was ready, he had this; this was nothing like Opie. But Clay continued to be silent, apprehensive, even a bit fearful, dare Tig think it. He looked up at Tig again like Clay hoped his Sergeant At Arms could offer some other solution than the obvious one, and the anguish on Clay's face made Tig wish like hell that he had one, but no. Tig waited, not able to help noticing how the last seventeen years on the throne had worn and weathered Clay, because it all showed at this moment, every line, and every look of heaviness suddenly so prominent on Clay's face. Tig heard himself sigh and feel a heaviness within himself, realizing that Clay felt betrayed by the son he'd raised…Gemma's son…Jax had to go, but what if he took Gemma with him? Tig waited, unsure himself now what he wanted Clay to say, unsure of what order concerning Jax Tig wished to carry out, but he was at the ready nonetheless…only the order never came. "Jax needs to love this club, not the kingdom he sees it as," Clay said, and his eyes slid away from Tig's and back to the reaper held in such untainted and undisturbed purity within the redwood table, where it had been carved by order of John Teller himself. "If Jax loves this club, he'll do what's right by it, so we give him the chance to."


	14. The Dress Code

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 14

"So, are you mad at me?" Poor Ope…he was standing there with his big shoulders hunched forward and head hung low, reminding Joss of some kind of big, loyal dog that couldn't tell the difference between its master laughing until they cried, or just plain crying, so it bit whoever was responsible for either one. Opie meant well, Joss of course knew that, but he had ruined the shoot…and Joss was pretty certain she'd never work with Ogdred again…well, no loss there, actually.

"No Ope, I'm not mad with you." She sighed as she calmed herself further by browsing through the rack of clothes that she hadn't been able to model today…and that sucked, because so many of them were so great looking and so different from anything Joss was used to…Tig was right, she didn't quite look like any of the other old ladies, or hangarounds, Joss's style tended to be more of the goth/punk/vintage varieties, short dresses over fishnet tights, studded belts with skull buckles, a lot of velvet and velour along with lace, ninety-nine percent of it all black…but Tig dug it, and Joss loved it, so why change anything? Oh, these clothes…what she wouldn't have given to have been able to keep a few of them or at the least to have been able to put them on and see how they looked on her. And the Swan Lake dress…the hideous and embarrassing mess of that Sno Ball dress…Gemma saw how Joss normally dressed, how could she have figured that either of those two awful dresses were something she'd like? Yeah, like this wedding was really about Joss! And like any anger Joss felt was really about Opie…he'd been sent by Tig, and he'd pulled a "Tig," big surprise…not that it was really Tig's fault either…Ogdred's unfortunate personality didn't help at all. "You're right, Tig did send you over here to put down something like that if it arose…and you did." Joss sighed again.

"I shouldn't have hit the guy," Opie flopped back against the wall and shook his right hand a bit to ease the soreness that must have been settling in it. "There wasn't much to him, I could've killed him."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Joss answered without looking up at Ope, her eyes drinking in every bit of lace every sequin, every beaded embellishment that would likely never grace her frame now. At least she still got to enjoy the elegant luxury of the peignoir set, because she hadn't taken it off yet. "You broke Ogdred's jaw and split his lip…that's all."

From the corner of her eye, Joss saw Opie look up now and he seemed fidgety and uncomfortable. "Here," he nagged, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket and cut, then the other. "If you're not going to put your regular clothes back on, then cover up with this…you're killing me!"

He tossed the jacket to her and Joss had no choice but to catch it, as she knew better than to let anything with a reaper on it touch the ground. "Fine," she sighed turned the jacket until her arms could slide into the arms correctly, slipping it on and immediately chilled, and put off, by how it smelled of…of 'man,' but not of Tig. Her hands vanished within the leather of the sleeves, a good three or four inches of the material below them, and the jacket itself ended at her mid thigh…whenever she put on something of Tig's, it usually fit about the same way, and once more all she could think about was her man…she'd see him today, he'd promised…but oh God, was her right side just going to continue to hurt until she did? The pain was nearly intolerable when Opie had thrown that punch at Ogdred, but lately it had subsided…until now, when she'd thought of Tig. It was almost like there was something inside her that wanted to be with him too, and when it couldn't be, it had some kind of…tantrums. Oh this pain had to be psychosomatic, there was no other explanation…but the smell of Opie's jacket was pungently not Tig, and it was drawing that "imagined" pain further into reality. What was going on? It wasn't usually this bad this often!

"Joss," Ope was looking at her now that she had all her most interesting bits covered, but he still looked very troubled. "You okay? You just got kinda pale."

Oh hell, is that also why she felt dizzy? "Yeah," she lied, but leaned against the wall behind her for support, it was obvious that she was in some kind of distress, but she had to try to hide it from Ope, because he'd take that development back to Tig, who would take Joss to the hospital, Gemma's combined effort or not. "It's just been a long day, kinda stressfu—"

Opie grabbed a folding chair and pulled it over against the wall, Joss next feeling his hand on her shoulder, and she couldn't help glancing up at him with surprised and offended eyes…he was touching her…and the last time Ope had touched her, it had been to pull her against him and kiss her! "Stop!" She ordered bluntly and tried to move away from him, but she couldn't…there was just too much pain.

"Damn it, Joss," Ope actually growled a bit, but he removed his hand, his eyes holding hers with a mix of worry, good intentions and apology…obviously, it had now occurred to Ope how and why he'd put his hands on her the last time he did. "I was just trying to help you to the chair…I swear to God!"

Shit…no wonder he'd growled at her, she'd managed to step on his heart…again…but, that Joss thoughtlessly doing so was making Ope growl was actually a good sign! Maybe he would eventually just get tired of this! But he wasn't there yet, and Joss felt herself sighing as she thrust her hand all the way out of the long sleeve of Opie's jacket to clutch her throbbing right side. "I'm sorry," she said, bracing herself against the back of the chair as she moved into it. "Thanks," she said next, indicating the chair, but not sure what else to say at the moment that wouldn't sound spiteful or too encouraging.

Opie shook his head. "No, I shouldn't have touched you; that's not why Tig sent me here."

"You didn't mean anything by it," Joss replied, and pushed a little harder against the pain in her side, wondering if maybe that might somehow counter it…but no…the pain just exploded then, radiating up her back and down her leg, making her gasp suddenly and collapse forward.

"Oh shit, Joss!" Ope clamored over her and dropped to one knee beside her, his hand moving to rest comfortingly on her back, but he remembered at the last moment and held it there, awkwardly hovering in the air. "What's wrong?" He asked; eyes full of fear and alarm. "It'll be okay, I'll call Tig."

Opie was reaching for his phone, being a good soldier, respecting Tig's ownership of Joss instead of acting of Ope's own accord as if Joss belonged to him. But, Joss couldn't let him make that phone call…God did she miss Tig, and she wanted to see him so badly, but she didn't want to see him like this! "Ope, no," now Joss's hand was on Opie's arm, trying to prevent him from pulling his cell from his belt, but the contact now startled both of them, and they were looking at each other like neither one knew what to do next. But Joss wasn't going to the hospital…Tara was there, Tara who didn't want anything to do with her anymore, Tara whom Joss had been so sure would always be her best friend…Tara who wouldn't even be attending Joss's wedding. No, Joss wouldn't face that heart break; she'd been trying so hard to put it behind her. "I'm fine," Joss heard herself saying as Opie's eyes seemed to be invading hers, looking deeper, trying so hard to connect with something inside her, all his staunch control unraveling on the spot as they looked at one another, both of them so filled with concern and fear. "It comes and goes," Joss was saying, and she was trying not to look at Ope anymore, but this stare was becoming more and more grip like…oh God, he needed her to let him look at her like this…he really did need it…some little scrap of vague affection from her that he'd use to keep going…and it made Joss want to cry…Opie was a good man, he didn't deserve the torture of this unrequited love…but what was Joss to do about it? Give into him? Make him some promise that someday, she'd be available? She couldn't do either one of those things, and she wouldn't, all parts of her, conscious and unconscious, belonged to Tig, every beat of her heart was Tig, every breath she drew was Tig…Tig! Tig was obviously feeling good about where Opie was…and Joss really did believe Ope was where Tig had assumed he was…one little touch had undone a lot of work on Ope's part…one little touch…no, no hospital…Ope, think of Ope…he had impressed Joss today, right down to the reason behind why he'd decked Ogdred.

Opie's stare was breaking her heart and disintegrating his resolve…the hand that Joss's finger pressed against was moving forward, forgetting the cellphone, reaching up and out towards her face, slowly, gently…the pain in Joss's side screamed out for Tig and she couldn't move…but there was something she could try, something that she could say that wouldn't be hurtful. "Tig," she began, but her voice failed her and she had to swallow hard. "Tig's going to be really glad you defended his property against Ogdred," she said, reminding Opie that it was actually his loyalty to his brother that made him throw that punch, not any direct concern or overprotective feelings for Joss herself. "I belong to Tig, you made that clear."

Opie's head shook suddenly and he blinked like coming out of some hypnotic trance, his hand that had nearly been against her cheek falling quickly against his knee. "Yeah," he said, as if swallowing bitter medicine, but medicine nonetheless. He eased up on his stare, his eyes sweeping over her again though…mourning and regretting all at once that he'd nearly touched, and perhaps gone further than that, with his brother's property…his brother's property who sat here on the chair Ope had procured for her, wearing his jacket and cut over a flimsy nightgown, clutching her side and wishing the pain would stop. "You are Tig's, and you know I hafta call him."

Damn Opie's sense of loyalty! Well, no, not really…it was Joss herself who had told Tig he'd need Ope one day, and this was all part of something growing between them that had to be encouraged. Still, Joss didn't want Tig to know about her pain…she'd been telling him it was getting better for the last few days now, and since she was always so happy and excited to be with him, her side had managed to stay in check whenever she'd been with her man, giving Tig no reason to believe it was bothering her. True, both Clay and Gemma had witnessed her little breakdown this morning regarding the pain-bomb that had detonated, but so far, neither of them had mentioned that to Tig…Joss knew they hadn't, if they had, Tig would have already shown up and hauled Joss off to Saint Thomas's…accepting no arguments. She had to keep Tig out of the 'know,' she was okay, it was just some rumblings of pain now and then, that try as she might, Joss couldn't connect to anything other than pining for her man. Tara, no, the hospital wasn't necessary, and neither was worrying Tig…or Ope for that matter. She looked up at Opie, determined to change his mind about calling Tig, and even feeling confident that she could; she'd figured out how to get him back on track after that deeply needful stare they shared for a few seconds, everything could have come crashing down then, but Joss had prevented it. She could handle Opie! "Ope, please," the pain was dying a little now, and Joss was able to let go of her side and lean back casually in the chair. "I'm okay, it's just a muscle spasm, when you injure big muscles, it takes a little longer for them to heal and the spasms are part of that." Well, she'd done a hell of a job explaining that…even if it were only partially true.

But Opie still looked uneasy about the whole thing. "Look Joss," he said seriously, but Joss couldn't help but notice that he wasn't reaching for his phone. Yay! But he was looking at her again…uh-oh…"It's not letting Tig down, or pissing him off, on this one that I'm worried about. I'm worried about you." Ope was careful not to meet eyes with her, staring at Joss's mouth as he spoke, but he didn't mean what he was saying any less. "I've lost a lot of people around me that I cared about, and I got this feeling that it ain't over yet," he sighed, glimpsed at her eyes briefly, just long enough for that old, magnetic stare to glimmer, then he tore away, looking down at the cuffs of his jacket that swallowed Joss's hands. "I don't want you to be one of them."

"Stop," Joss said again, only this time it was barely audible and all she wanted now was a distraction, looking back at the rack of vintage clothes she was supposed to have modeled today…Opie, he did mean well, and he had reacted out of respect for Tig…but Ope still had it bad for her…and somehow, Ope was learning how to handle Joss too. Damn it…that had to be coming off of Tig, Tig had mentioned that lately Opie was always "fuckin' bugging" him and hanging around trying to "talk about shit." And damn dear brother Jax for being part of Opie's power too! But wow…was Jax leaving? Really? Shit…a distraction, a distraction…a distraction…and suddenly, there it was, a distraction that was actually a genuine diversion. Hanging on the rack of vintage pieces, second to the last garment hanging on the pole, was the dress that Joss knew was "the one!"

She gasped and rose to her feet, making Opie stand as well, his hands kind of up and waiting to catch her if she fell, but Joss wasn't watching how close to touching her he was, she was plucking the 1960's inspired mini-dress from the rack and holding it up. It was Tig's favorite color, black, and it had sheer, stretch lace three-quarter length sleeves, but there was a two inch fringe of the most delicate eyelash lace hanging down from the end of sleeve, and the same gossamer fringe edged the hem of the short skirt, which ended about eight inches above Joss's knee. It was form fitting black lace all over, but with a nude lining that gave it a shimmering, shadowy quality that Joss loved. The back was open and the front was a lovely Sweetheart neckline that dipped just low enough to add to how statuesque she'd look in this dress. Oh…this was no wedding dress…it bordered on disrespectful perhaps…but that shit was all in the civilian world, not the world Joss and Tig lived in! She didn't want to look like a princess, she didn't even want to look like a bride…she wanted to look like she was marrying Tig Trager…and everything about this dress said that! It was the dress Joss wanted…it would be the dress that Tig wanted…Gemma…it was nothing like the dress she wanted…but this was Joss's wedding…she wanted her dress, not Gemma's! Joss sighed as she looked at the little black dress…her wedding dress…that she knew she couldn't wear, and it made her so much sadder than she had anticipated. She held the black lace against her, so in love with it that she barely even noticed how silly it looked over Opie's jacket and cut, and she looked down at it against her body and Joss sighed deeply, imagining herself in this dress, walking the down the "aisle" in the clubhouse, going to Tig, who'd be standing there trying not to be obviously smiling in front of everyone in attendance, but he'd be smiling, because of how his old lady looked in this dress! He'd said before he wanted Joss in black, and he'd also said that the Sno Ball dress "wasn't them." But this little, black stretch lace, dress with the delicate eyelash fringe most definitely was! But…Gemma…Joss hung 'the dress' back on the rack and looked sadly up at Ope, shaking her head.

"Hey," she said, sounding so defeated, though she was still fighting. "You're not the only one suffering losses right now," she said and looked longingly at the black dress again…why couldn't she wear that dress? That was 'the dress!' Weren't brides supposed to wear 'the dress?' Her fingers reached out and teased the eyelash lace on the sleeve, rippling it like a gentle breeze, and again Joss smiled sadly; the fringe would have looked so lovely when she walked down the aisle. "It's been a disappointing enough day. Let's not get Tig involved."

She hoped that would do it…but Ope didn't answer. Shit, he wasn't already on the phone was he? Joss looked up at Opie, but no, he wasn't on the phone; his phone wasn't even in his hand. He was staring again, but not at Joss. Ope knew; he had been hanging around Tig long enough to know how to read Joss and handle her, because Ope knew how she felt about this dress, it was obvious by how he was staring at it…but saying nothing.


	15. Light in the Darkness

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 15

This had been the day from hell, and now it wasn't even the same day anymore, and Tig had broken his promise to Joss! Jesus fucking Christ…all he wanted to do was see her and hold her tightly enough to satisfy whatever that thing inside her was that needed him close, and let her know that he wasn't leaving her…Tig wasn't sure why, but whatever was wrong with Joss, he couldn't help but feel she was afraid of being abandoned. They'd texted a few times after Opie returned from the photo shoot much earlier than he should have and told Tig what had happened, and what he'd put down. But it wasn't any concern of Tig's what had happened to anyone who tried to claim Joss was theirs and not respect her as his, he'd kick and stomp their God damn fucking heads until their eyes popped out! He'd never show it…well, maybe one day he would, but he owed Ope…he'd stood in for Tig in exactly the way Tig had hoped he would if anything happened. And then Opie had started talking about how he knew what Tig had to get Joss as a wedding gift…had to get…but the big Chewbadooba bastard wouldn't say what it was! Shit…Tig still needed the get the fucking ring, too!

Opie had also mentioned how Joss seemed like her side was still bothering her, told Tig he might want to ask her about how she was feeling, but again, Ope hadn't said anymore than that…despite how Tig had bitched and threatened…Opie finally silencing him with the words, "Hey, it's between you and your old lady, man." Well, yeah, it was, God damn it…but still, Tig wanted to know there and then what the hell was wrong with Joss…but it couldn't have been too serious. It sucked, but Tig knew that if Joss were in bad shape, Ope wouldn't have been able to resist rushing her to Saint Thomas's, the same way Tig would have done…Ope loved Joss too…which fucking sucked, but well, shit…it did have some advantages.

Twelve thirteen…fuck…Tig had every intention of getting to Joss today, particularly since they had to discuss that damn muscle pull which was still lingering, despite what she'd told him about it "beginning to fade away." He missed that damn girl, but everything was in his way of getting to her today! The actual meeting with knothead Jax Teller didn't end when the knothead walked out of the chapel. Tig and Clay had been busy trying to make sure the club was secure, making calls, gathering intel, bringing Juice in to hack a few government sites, but neither Clay nor Tig divulged why any of it was happening. Jax was being given the chance to do what was right…to disappear, or Tig would make him 'disappear.' And Tig was betting more on that than knothead suddenly figuring it out too…something wasn't right with what Jax had told he and Clay today, and it was Tig's intention to find out what it was…fuck, he was much to keyed up over Joss and knothead himself upsetting Clay and eventually Gemma…why not try to find out what Jax was hiding tonight?

But Joss…not only was Tig worried about the pain she was still feeling, but he was worried that maybe she was starting to think he'd disappeared. He'd texted her a momentous apology right before he got in the shower, having finally arrived home around eleven forty-seven, and Joss had responded that she missed him, said again that she felt okay, and told him she loved him and wanted him, but that she understood that while she may have belonged to Tig, Tig would always belong to the club. God damn she was perfect…and he missed her too…and was worried about her…she was being strong, but something was wrong with her…Tig could feel it.

Tig had been on the way to Jax's house, but damn was it hard to keep driving that direction when Joss was at the other end of town…Joss…fuck this love he had for her, it was just interfering with what Tig had to do tonight…what good was loving her if this club went under? SAMCRO was where they lived, SAMCRO was what they were, SAMCRO was where they loved…what he and that damn girl had was tight and solid and intense and…downright maddening at times, but it wouldn't be allowed to exist in the civilian world…in the civilian world, she was a seventeen year old kid, and that's all she was…no one would ever understand the extraordinary woman she was, the things that girl could handle and do, the demons she still fought and sometimes, despite her most valiant of efforts, lost to. If the spider monkey ever appeared in the civilian world, his beautiful, sweet, dark angel was destined for a padded cell…and there'd be no reason for it, it would kill her, and that would kill Tig! No…Tig kept driving; he had to find out as much about Jax as he could as soon as he could. But damn…wanting to be with Joss, wanting to touch her and kiss her and feel his big cock buried deep and making her his was breaking him…she needed him…Joss…he fucking missed her so much!

Jesus fucking Christ, all Tig could do was hope this wouldn't turn into a long night of surveillance, but it might…oh well, he really wouldn't have slept tonight anyway…Joss, he'd let her down…promised she'd see him today, and here it was after midnight, a new day, and he hadn't gotten to her when he'd promised he would. And to top it all off, the fucking dyna just jerked hard to the left…what the hell was wrong? It had never done that before…was the steering stem or bearing jacked up? Shit…it felt alright now, though, but wouldn't it just be the shitty end to the shittiest of days to have to pull over on the side of the road, trying to pull off a repair in the pitch darkness while holding a Mini-Maglite in his mouth? Damn…for as hard as the dyna had jerked left, she was fine now though…cruising right along wherever Tig steered her…wherever he steered her…and they were almost there.

Tig removed his helmet, his hair was still wet from the shower, but the night air was drying it quickly as he got off of his bike, pushing it further up the road, closer to the house, leaving it where it was just close enough, but still hidden. He moved quietly along in every available shadow, making his way onto the front lawn, dressed as black as the night that surrounded him…this could be a long night, but it didn't matter, there was no way he'd be able to sleep tonight, there'd been way too much shit to sort out, and it wasn't all sorted out yet, and Joss's photo shoot had been a disaster…and to top it all off, that stomach muscle was acting more and more like it was something more serious than what she claimed it was…no, Tig wouldn't sleep tonight, not without Joss laying there beside him, safely tucked into his arms, where he could fight off whatever it was that was fucking with her…something was wrong, he just knew it was.

He'd taken up a position where he was completely hidden, but Tig could see very well, watching the house, his thoughts split between his want and worry for Joss, but Jax was in there too, but nowhere near as favorably as was Joss. Jax…what the hell did knothead do? Or fail to do? And how would it ultimately affect Clay and Gemma and then the club? There was still some information missing, knothead hadn't spilled all the beans about how he'd gotten into this trouble with the feds…really, the dumb blonde stole a fucking bait car? No…so maybe Jax was out playing some shithead Robin Hood and dealing out stolen cars to those in need…but a bait car? Jax wasn't smart enough not to know a fucking bait car when he saw one? No…the little shit was lying about that, and both Tig and Clay knew it…but Tig would figure out what Jax was lying about…and why! But the answer wasn't at the shop, or at the clubhouse…if Jax was hiding something, he was hiding it at home…with Doctor bitch! Doctor bitch…that worthless cunt…Joss really had wanted to be her friend…

Tig sighed, he already felt so useless…he wasn't doing what he should have been doing…Joss…God damn, missing her was becoming a visceral kind of despair, like until Tig could be with her, his heart was sick and swollen, too sick and swollen to fit within his body anymore and was hanging outside of his chest, swinging by the arteries and veins that maintained it as part of him. Part of him…yeah, like his heart wasn't Joss's…like it hadn't been from the moment he saw her. God fucking damn it…he did love that damn girl! Tig pulled his phone, flipping it open to the keyboard and shielding the light in the darkness that concealed him; calling her at this hour was a stupid idea, if Gemma somehow overheard Joss on the phone, she'd know who it was Joss was talking to, and Gemma'd be pissed…Tig wondered just how much Gemma was trying to strengthen he and Joss by keeping them apart, or how much Gemma was actually trying to hold onto the last kid she still could hold onto, for as long as she possibly could. Whatever…Joss was his, and Tig would do what he had to do to be with her, even if it was just a text message.

"u still awake?" he typed then hit send, but he knew she'd still be awake…Joss had said since the first night that Gemma demanded she re-take up residence within Jax's old room that it was impossible to sleep without her old man next to her. Since Tig had fucked up, given in and patched her, being apart from him had always been hard for Joss…that run to Indio had been their longest separation…until now, and Tig would always remember how she'd stood there beside him before he drove away, not looking at him in an effort to keep from crying…he'd told her not to cry, and she'd tried so fucking hard not to…she was a good girl, she always listened to him, even when she didn't like it…shit, why hadn't he told her not to cry this time? She was crying a lot lately, Tig couldn't hug her "goodbye" and not come away without tear drops on his chest…damn, he should've told her not to cry…she was a good girl, she did listen to him. But Joss's tears, her need for him, her hardcore missing him…it was all part of how much she wanted to be close to him, to be clinging to him…he was her old man, she belonged to him, and she needed him to keep her safe from whatever it was that was scaring her…yeah, something was wrong!

His cell buzzed in his hand, "Yes! I miss u!" Joss's response lit up his phone in hardly any time at all, and Tig smiled a bit, wanting so badly to be with her. He'd promised she'd see him today…but he'd fallen short of that mark…fuck, why was this eating at him so much? No, what he really wondered was why did he let it…shit, that damn girl…God damn it all, but he loved her so much more than he'd ever thought he would, or wanted to, or even understood that he was capable of doing! He wasn't where he should be…he wasn't where he'd thought he'd be tonight…but Tig was here, nonetheless.

He studied the house carefully, searching for any signs of movement, any lights coming on, any indication that he'd aroused the suspicion of anyone inside, but it all looked quiet. But he had to be careful as he approached…and where was he even fucking going? Joss…this was for her…everything was for her! Tig hit "reply" and flipped to the keyboard again…Jesus fucking Christ did he love that damn girl! "Hold your phone up 2 the window." He told her, and already could predict her response.

"Why?"

Tig laughed a bit, he couldn't help it, picturing Joss looking down at her phone with that "I love you baby, but you're completely nuts" expression that was so often on her face…she was so damn cute…and Tig hated cute, but hell, he was done like dinner at this point, Joss had all of him…he sighed and shook his head, going back to the keyboard on his phone and relieved that he could at least still sound 'butch' and dominant in a text. "DO IT!" He ordered her, then flipped his phone closed and returned it to the inside pocket of his cut; he no longer needed it; he wouldn't be texting for awhile now. Tig crouched within the shadows a bit more, scrutinizing the house until he finally saw the bluish glow of a small LED screen in the last window on the side of the house that faced him. Aha! He'd thought that was Jax's old room, but he hadn't been sure, and if that window wasn't unlocked and open, it would be soon! Fuck…why'd Tig even believe that he was going to drive over to Jax's place tonight? He couldn't fight this need to be with Joss any longer, even if Jax was hiding something; surveying Jax tonight was a good idea, but it would have been extra-curricular, not following any given order. But seeing Joss? That wasn't exactly extra-curricular, or a given order…it was something else completely, and much much more powerful a desire than Tig could have guessed it was. He loved that damn girl…she needed him…Tig had to see her!


	16. By Force

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story. Additional influences owed to Emily Bronte's novel, "Wuthering Heights."_

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 16

"Why didn't you…" his mouth closed over hers again, they'd been kissing from the moment Joss had slid the screen on the window up, leaving nothing to separate them. "…say you were coming?" she asked quietly, Tig stealing her breath again as his lips melted against hers, bracing himself against the window pane as he stepped all the way through the window into Jax's old room and took Joss fully in his arms.

"I didn't know," he whispered back, eyes closed as he pulled her against him as tightly as he could, kissing first her upper lip then her lower lip softly, bending his head against her neck where he nuzzled his beard and sucked at her soft, pale skin. To be holding her like this again felt like coming home to a place Tig never before understood could be 'home,' but now it was and he couldn't stand to be away from it. And that was what Joss was, she was 'home,' she was the sacred place he could hide his most secret thoughts and feelings from the rest of the world within, and know they were safe. She was the book of his past and the light of his future; she knew his heart, and she guarded it with her life. God damn, did he love her! He could feel her soft, smooth lips pressing to the stubble around his jaw…fuck, he should've shaved…but then, he honestly hadn't known he'd be seeing her. "I was on my way to somewhere else, and the bike just…turned itself around, and now I'm with you."

Joss's perfect lips broke open into a smile as she quietly laughed, looking up at him with so much adoration and happiness in her shimmering, green eyes. "You make us sound like magnets."

Tig just shook his head and kissed her again, urging her arms to lock around his neck by dropping his shoulder against her hand; he'd missed her photo shoot today, he'd broke his promise to her, and some civilian shithole with a camera had claimed she belonged to him…Tig's sweet, dark angel needed to be close to him, and he'd let her be. "Whatever," his voice was soft with his breathlessness as he pulled her even closer, one hand caressing her down her back and then firmly grabbing her ass, heaving her to him so closely it made the stiffness growing ever stronger at his groin begin to throb. Her body against his, naked or not, had always prompted desires that had to be fulfilled, he had to have her, all of her, kissing her deeply, sucking at her tongue and groaning as quietly as he could as her form bound to his. "I can't not be with you, baby," he whispered, looking down at her, one hand embracing her cheek and lifting her eyes up to his. "You're my soul. I can't not be with you."

He felt Joss shudder against him as his words sank into her and then she kissed him, knowing so incredibly well that Tig had wanted no response to what he'd said, she was so so perfect. Joss merely acknowledged his passion by tightening her arms and trying to draw him closer to her body. Tig had resisted such measures for so long that his first instinct had been to pull away, but Joss waited understandingly and he was soon against her even more than he was before, making up for his opposition, lifting Joss up off of the floor as they kissed and turning around so that Jax's old bed was behind her. "C'mon," Tig whispered, his mouth fusing to hers again, tongues alive, his chest heaving against the snaps of the black western cut shirt he wore, and big cock straining against denim. He knew Joss could feel what she did to him, because she wrapped her legs around him in an effort to feel the long, thick swollen shape against her belly, then moaned softly and clawed lightly at his chest. But Tig wouldn't make her wait long…because he couldn't himself. "I'm fucking you," he murmured as he laid her across the bed, already feeling how furious this would be, and he couldn't risk the headboard rattling against the wall. His body followed hers down against the mattress, settling his weight above her and letting how she'd always felt beneath him wash over him, "now."

He kissed her again, the tip of her tongue eagerly there to meet his as one his hands trailed down her body to the hem of the nightshirt she wore, lifting it up, the anticipation of rubbing his coarse mechanics hands over the smooth, creamy skin between her thighs making his cock stiffen even more and Joss was spreading her legs wider, giving his fingers all the access they needed. The way she was kissing him and clutching him, Tig knew she was ready, he didn't have to press his fingers into her fluffed pink folds, or push one as deeply inside her liquid heat as far as it would go, to check that she was, but he'd wanted to…he'd needed to. He'd seen her the day before, but that hadn't been an occasion to fuck her, there wasn't time…but now…he had all night to remind himself of this decadent sustenance he required so crucially.

She'd flinched against him when his finger had driven into her, and her breathing had increased in speed and urgency…she was so warm and dripping wet, Tig could feel the sumptuous muscles of her inner walls swelling and tightening around his digit, making his cock ache jealously and weep with pre-cum that ran down his thigh. Joss couldn't be still…or quiet beneath him…damn…she was cumming already, from only his finger? She'd seemed more sensitive lately, and he knew what fucking her would ultimately mean…the sounds of her desire and pleasure would have to be smothered by his kiss, but he hadn't figured it would be so soon. She did need him, every moment of feeling some part of him inside her was Joss's chance to reconnect with the man that owned her, Tig understood that, but she seemed to need that chance so desperately now…yeah, this separation had been hard on her…she needed to know she was still his.

"Please," she was managing to gasp between each heavy breath, her hands moving down his body to his belt buckle, fingers fumbling against the tautness of his big cock as she tried blindly to free it. Tig growled deeply in his throat as he kissed and bit at her neck, pushing his stiffness against her fingers, feeling her struggling touch make his big cock jump and flinch, but Joss was too much in need to be satisfied by feeling his heavy erection pushing back against her hand. "Now," she pleaded, her hips lifting towards his as if he were already fucking her, her writhing making his finger slide out of her lush channel and back in again against her expanding G-spot, her soft cries gaining in their timbre, "Tig," Joss whispered urgently, bucking against him more and more, like her body was moving beyond her own control, trying to cum, though it was clear that she'd rather feel his big, hard, thick rod pounding into her when she did. "I need you!"

She needed him…she needed to know she was still his…and the next thing Tig knew, she had him. He had no memory of undoing his belt or his fly, but he had, and he was fucking her roughly and deeply, Joss already shaking and trembling around his big cock, which felt every titillating vibration of her flexing muscles, even her rapidly beating heart seeming to pulsate and quiver around his thick shaft. She was quiet, but not because they kissed, he was fucking her way too hard to make that possible. Instead, his hand was clamped over her mouth, the only sound that escaped was that of her erratic and husky breathing as her body shook and contracted below his, and never seemed to stop. She was wet and hot and swelling around his big root with every thrust, Tig giving her more than any other man likely would have dared to, challenging what she claimed to be made of every time her eager thrust met his, forcing him to achieve a dominance that rivaled any he'd ever held over anyone or anything else, for Joss was unlike anyone or anything else. She was an angel, he knew she was, sweet, dark and wild, but he was wilder still; a sudden tempest versus a hurricane. But still her body tried to test his, some constant state of climax that held her within its grip was wringing her every muscle tighter and tighter around him; Tig could feel the head of his big cock bristling and throbbing, the sensations carrying up along the ridge like line on the underside of his shaft, a million sparks flying within him…he was cumming, joining Joss in the throes that sweetened the violence of their love...his hand tightly and forcefully over her mouth, but her eyes watching his with such hungry acceptance, giving herself to be torn into by his most primeval and unrestrained need.

Chapter 16; Part 2

It would be a few moments before either of them would speak; the vigor of what always seemed to run untamed and ferocious between them stealing both their energy and numbing the ability to put thoughts into words…this strange transition from animals back to human beings always felt like such a gradual thing. Tig was often quiet for awhile when he rolled off of whatever bitch he was fucking, and some of them were stupid enough to try to talk to him, which only got them immediately dismissed from whatever bed they were in, but Joss had never been like that; fucking him seemed to make her just as stoned as fucking her made him, and she'd always laid next to him in gasping silence as well. She had moved though…well, she'd moved because Tig had slipped his arm around her and pulled her onto him, almost completely on top of him, suddenly remembering her right side…shit…the wildness that lashed at them both and split them wide open was better than any drug he'd ever tried, but it made him so reckless and forgetful of things like Joss's pulled muscle. Fuck…he hadn't hurt her, had he? "You okay, little girl?" She hadn't moved as though she'd been in any pain, never once clutched at her side like Opie had said she'd been doing at the photo shoot, but Tig knew better than to assume that meant it was gone…endorphins…Joss had "taken" Tig to relieve the pain before.

"You always ask that after you fuck me," she smiled, her head laying against his bare chest…for even as they'd slumped, gasping against one another, she'd been pushing his shirt and cut off…the girl did love his chest, always wanted to be seeing it and touching it and kissing it…Tig would never figure that out…he wasn't some fucking bodybuilder-powerhouse after all, and there was an eight and a half inch dick below it that was far more extraordinary! But no, Joss was always about his chest…laying nearly sprawled across it now, face down, one of her legs between both of his, his cock relaxing against her thigh, as Tig held her to him with his arm around her. "I'm fine," she smiled again as she tilted her head to look up at him. "You know that."

"No, I don't." Tig shook his head then sighed when he saw Joss roll her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"What did Opie tell you?" She asked, sounding annoyed with big ol' Chewbadooba. "I had to be 'falling' against a car for most of the morning, so yeah, it made my oblique a little sore."

Hmm…did Tig believe that? "Joss, I've already had to be more worried about this pulled muscle shit than I wanna be," he said gruffly, but kept his voice low…Gemma wouldn't be too pleased to find that Rumpledickskin had snuck into Rapunzel's tower and fucked the hell out of her…huh? Who the fuck was Rumpledickskin? Fucking fairy tales…there was too fuckin' many of 'em to keep straight…and Tig didn't really remember any of them anyway…did he? Hmm…'Mary fairy laid an egg'…nope, that didn't sound right at all…good thing Joss couldn't get knocked up…shit, what was he pissed with Joss over? Oh, yeah! "I want you to get checked out, and I'm not fucking asking you, baby!"

"Tig," she sighed and looked up at him with such needful hope in her eyes. "Can we please talk about this later? I just want to be…with you right now. I've been missing you so much tonight it's had me in tears."

But Tig wasn't backing down. "I want to be with you too, for a lot more nights, so find out what the hell's wrong with you."

Joss was shaking her head though, and it wasn't like her to resist him on something for this long, but she was. She must have had a reason, and if she did, Tig hoped it was one that would belay his fears…she couldn't be sick, she couldn't be badly hurt…he just couldn't have dealt with losing her. "I think I know what's wrong with me," she said, looking up at him, her chin resting on top of both her hands. "But you're going to think I'm crazy."

"You got what I got, baby," he reminded and then sighed, and looked down at her a bit, giving her midnight hair a stroke. Was this finally it? That photographer faggot, had his little fucked up quip about Joss belonging to him maybe jarred Joss into realizing the thing that had her so in need of her old man? Had Joss figured out what it was that was bothering her? If she had, now was the time to be as strong for her as Tig could be, stronger still than the hungering beast that had fucked her. "I know every feeling you have that you don't wanna have, I know every thought that scares you; I'm here, Joss. I am. You belong to me, you're mine, and I'm here however you need me to be here."

"I know," she replied, but she didn't smile, and the somber look on her face made Tig wrap his arms around her and hug her to him a little, trying to make her feel safe, trying to make her happy. Joss snuggled in and rubbed her cheek against the dark curls on his chest until Tig felt the slight tickle of them tangling with her eyelashes. "Which is why I feel like I shouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling."

"Joss," Tig shook his head, his hand resting gently against her hair as the other one smoothed up and down her shoulder and back slowly, comfortingly. "It doesn't matter, just talk to me, baby. Please." Shit, he fucking hated it every time he heard himself saying "please" to her…"please" was not in his vocabulary, at least not where property should have been concerned…but fuck…he wanted to know what was wrong with her so badly, he'd have said nearly anything to get her to tell him.

Joss nodded beneath the hand on the back of her head and she sighed like she was apprehensive about saying whatever it was she was going to say, but Tig gave her half a glare, letting her know that there was no backing out of this, ordering her to tell him everything with the sternness in his eyes. Joss gave a subtle nod that she probably didn't even realize she'd made and looked up at him. "I think I'm imagining the pain."

"What?" He wasn't expecting that, sure there were such things as phantom pains, he'd spent a combative night in Mogadishu with a buddy in his squad whose left leg had been blown off at the knee, but all night long the staff sergeant had cried that his left boot was tied too tightly. Joss hadn't been through some trauma matching that…why would she be imagining the pain…that had originated from that damn horse? "Joss, I'm not buying that."

She sighed. "No, just…give me a chance to explain, please?" She didn't shrug off his hand, but she did lift her head up to look at him now, and though Tig was pretty sure he wasn't about to believe anything she was going to offer as an explanation, he nodded at her to continue. "I love you," she said. "I've never loved anyone before, so I don't really know if what I feel for you is more than what most women feel for their men, but sometimes, I think it is…like what I feel goes beyond loving you and turns into this…emotional intensity that takes me over and is so hard to control," she was looking into his eyes now, and Tig knew what it was she spoke of, and he had to agree that what he felt for her, what they had together, was far more powerful and possessive of each other than what he'd felt for the last woman he'd given his name to...or any other woman he'd ever known. "I need you, I need to be with you, no one has ever gotten so much inside of me, or become so much a part of me," she was looking down at him, so much fervor lighting her emerald eyes; she loved him…she loved him so much she shook with it. "I don't even know how to say how much I love you, I don't even think it's possible for me to do so, but now I'm away from you, and so many times I lay here alone in this damn bed at night in the dark and think how much I want you to hold me until we both die, and lie in the earth together, disintegrating into one another, where no one will ever be able to separate us ever again!"

"Joss," her name seemed to float from his mouth like it was blown by the power of the wind, Tig's heart beating as if it never had before…Joss always managed to find the words he never thought of, to describe what he felt in a way Tig never understood he felt it himself…yes, he loved her, yes she was his, and yes he wanted to possess her forever, to absorb her even…and Joss couldn't have expressed the intensity of that desire any more accurately than she just had. Tig's arms wrapped around her more and more, pulling tighter than before, compressing her against his chest as if he could pull her inside of himself right then and there, "Joss…"

She trembled a bit above him, her arms fighting their way free of his and wrapping around his neck to embrace him in return, both of them now a passionate, quivering mass that longed never to be parted. "I love you," she whispered against his heart, her hot breath warming his tingling skin and making Tig never want to let her go…never…Gemma would be pissed if she were to find him here in the morning, but fuck her, Tig wasn't leaving Joss…not after what she'd said and what it had done to both of them! "You're my lif—"

"Shhh," he softly hissed, eyes closed and the vision of his blood mixing with hers in the ground saturating his thoughts. "I know, baby, I know…but just let me feel you with me like this…it's all I want right now." He was embracing her with so much strength he was out of breath, but still, Tig felt like he needed her closer…that damn girl…how had he ever fallen in love with her, and how in fucking hell had that love gotten to be such a life force?

Joss nodded silently and pressed herself more into him, making Tig groan and he cupped the back of her head and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, all of sudden knowing what Joss had been going through…he just couldn't feel like she was close enough. They lay together like that for several minutes, silent in the darkness of Jax's old room, the pale beauty of Joss's skin seeming to softly glow against Tig's body, the heat shared between their two forms soldering them together in Tig's mind, joining them so that they'd never come apart…their strange and eccentric love…their marriage…their wedding…they needed 'their' wedding…not Gemma's wedding, Tig couldn't marry this girl, this sweet, perfect, dark angel the way Gemma was planning for him to…no, he and Joss had to do this their way, they had to give themselves, one to the other, in some way that made them each feel what they felt at this moment.

"I know you love me," Joss was whispering again, her lips moving against the dark hairs on his chest. "No one else would hold me like this after I said something like that. I never want to be without you, Tig. Never." Her hand was pressing softly over his thrumming heart, which only beat harder and harder the more she confessed her love for him, it's sentiment echoing against her soft fingertips, and Joss drank it in through her touch…maybe this was why she was so into his chest? "I love you, Tig. And I think it hurts me so much emotionally and mentally to be away from you, that the pain overflowed and spilled into my physical senses."

Holy fuck, did the girl really love him that deeply? Could any love really be that deep? Deep enough to cause physical pain when one was being held away from the other? Was what had come to be between them so strong that this…entity had grown out of it, demanding that they be together, and punishing them if they were not? Tig wasn't sure if he could truly believe that, it sounded a bit fairy tale-ish in itself…but Joss certainly looked as though she believed that was it, that she needed her old man, that she loved him to the point of literally no return. And she did, she'd been with Tig through things that no one else even wanted to hear about, and she'd tolerantly and sweetly let him do insane and perverse things that anyone else would have been too freaked out by to reach the consideration Joss had found in so short a time. Yeah, his sweet, dark angel did love him beyond the boundaries of what most people would define as being "love," but was this separation really causing her to be in pain? There was only way to find out. He sat up against her, taking her head in both his hands and Tig kissed her, letting her worry his upper lip as he sucked at her lower one, the fingertips on his chest pressing even more against the beating of his heart. She loved him with unimagined strength and profundity…and he'd do all he could for her. "Okay," he whispered against her lips, kissing her again softly, "then I gotta find a way to get you outta here."

Author's Note: I wanted to take a moment to make two necessary "thank you's" and extend one invitation.

#1. The first "thank you" is to all of you for being patient with me the last few days when there were no updates. I am so sorry to disappoint you and keep you waiting, but finally, my computer monitor has been replaced and the old, dying one that prevented me from writing and posting because it kept going half screen on me has been laid to rest.

#2. The second and most hearty "thank you" goes to AlyKat4Life for volunteering her time and wondrous art talent to make a breathtaking sketch of Joss in her "Sno Ball" dress! Thank you Aly, and as I said before, you'll never know how much you've improved my relationship with Joss now that I can actually see her! It is amazing, and you've no doubt helped me to create an even better story than the one I've had written in my head for so long! Thank you so much for such a generous gift!

And finally: I have received a few requests and comments and emails concerning pairing Joss with other characters. I must confess that I have no plans to do so, but I have heard ideas about how good she'd be with Happy, and lately Opie as well. So, to any of you who may be interested in such a pairing, I invite you to "borrow" Joss and put her with whomever you please. I only ask that you credit me for the character, and also let me know what you're writing, because hey, I'll be super excited to read it!

Thank you all again, and I hope you continue to enjoy "Three Princes!" Many thanks for reading! 


	17. Dragon in the Doorway

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 17

The pipes carrying hot water always made a thumping, bumping kind of sound when the shower or bath was first turned on, and the familiar, dull noise in the wall that separated Jax's old room from the neighboring bathroom, stirred Joss awake. The next sound she heard was the usual, "God damn it!" from Clay who always responded thusly as soon as the pipes protested his early morning shower. It was time to get up, Gemma would be knocking on her door soon, they had the bakery to go to today and order a cake, then the search was on for shoes, and the dreaded guest list and seating chart…well, at least the list of things to do was shrinking by the day…five more days, and anything that wasn't done just wasn't going to get done, because she and Tig would be married…at some stupid and stuffy froo-froo wedding. But after it was over…it was over…and Joss could finally be with Tig again, forever. But getting through this wedding was going to be difficult to do without feeling even more kidnapped than Joss did now…this wasn't her wedding…she wouldn't be wearing the dress…this wasn't the start that she wanted with Tig.

There was movement beside her before Joss even opened her eyes, and then the mattress was compressing, a rough finger then gently traced her shapely eyebrow as a hairy, broad chest pressed close to her. Tig…Joss began to smile, he was still here…oh God, Tig was still here! Her eyes flew open and she found that she was looking up at him; he was laying above her, softly kissing her neck, her legs on either side of him. True to male morning form, his big dick was hard as steel against her belly, and the way his kisses were extending passed her neck, over her collar bone and down to her breasts Joss knew what his intentions were. Was he crazy? Well, yes, he sorta was, and that was part of the reason she loved him, but now was not a good time for a…good time! The house was awake! But ohhh…it was hard to resist how it felt to have his weight above her, or the commanding way he made her legs spread for him, her knees slightly bent enough to really lock the two of them together when he fucked her…and that big cock…its sticky head bobbing against the soft skin of her stomach. But they couldn't…not now…Gemma would find out! She could be on the other side of that bedroom door right now! "Tig," Joss tried to sound urgent but in as quiet a voice as she could. "The night's no longer on our side," she said as his hands slipped between her back and the sheets, pulling her close to him and making it so hard not to want this…she'd been dying to be close to him, and then finally she was, but as soon as he was gone, she'd be dying to be close to him again…that was her cycle…if they had time for one more moment together like this…

"Shhh, Joss," Tig hissed back without lifting his head, just kept kissing her skin, sucking hard at the swell of one breast and making her nipple harden even more against his stubbled cheek. She fought not to moan, but lost, her erect, pink peak begging the warmth of his mouth and tongue. "Just let it happen," he whispered, easing his body down hers a bit, aligning his hips with hers, his big, bulky cock in his hand as he began to rub the head of it all over her awakening clitoris, making her twist against him and shove herself to him at the same time, wanting more and more as the rush of such demanding ticklish enchantment overwhelmed her. "It's got to happen," he breathed, making her wetter and wetter to allow for his entrance, though Joss knew this wasn't the best of ideas.

Joss's eyes were closed again and she was falling deftly under the spell of whatever it was that so often blanketed her and her man, binding them together in the most unseen, but most potent of ways. They did need this, had been denied each other; had been denied this for far too long…there was no fighting it, but still, she tried to at least warn her man. "But Gemm—"

Now Tig lifted his head and looked down at her, his stare imposing yet full of everything he felt for her. "She can't touch us if we don't let her," he told her, and it sounded so odd, so strange and almost new age-y coming from him…he'd never been the mantra spouting, good luck charm wearing type, and now here he was with some kind of spiritual "self-help" advice? "You've got to understand that, baby. You're going miss me right into your grave if you don't," he arched his back and kissed a spot near where the pain usually stemmed from on her right side, then trailed his tongue back up her body, kissing each of her nipples slowly enough to suck them into his mouth and make her breasts heave against his chin as he did. "I promise to do whatever I can to get you with me again, but you still gotta learn to feel me with you no matter how close Gemma is, or how much distance she puts between us." He leaned down and kissed her, his words having as effect on her as everything else he did to her, and Joss struggled to get her hands on his broad chest…she'd always felt closer to him if she could be against, or be touching his chest. Tig growled softly and she felt his pectoral muscles flex against her fingernails as they kissed and kissed…Joss trying so desperately to forget completely that Gemma was awake…Joss could hear her heading to the kitchen for coffee…she'd be sitting at the dining room table with the paper soon…"Joss," Tig whispered knowing full well where her thoughts were, "Look at me," he ordered in a sharp, but hushed tone, and Joss did. "You love me?"

"Yes," she answered, searching his ice blue eyes for whatever it was that made him so peculiarly wise.

"Then Gemma doesn't matter, it's just you and me, and nothin' can fuckin' change that. You gettin' me?" He whispered against her tingling skin, and Joss finally did…Gemma could never interrupt what Joss and Tig were, no one could…and Tig would prove it. She wanted him to, it would make this separation easier, but Joss still felt a bit apprehensive, but her clit was more than engorged now, every amount of contact with it making her feel like she was in the grip of icy flames. There was a deprived, hollow feeling increasing within her as she felt her slick sheath expanding and readying for the massiveness of Tig's long, fat cock…she needed it now…she needed him. Her slit was so wet that Tig's throbbing hardness made soft, sloshing sounds as he rubbed the belly of it up and down her wanton, pink cleft. She drew a ragged breath and looked up at her man, nodding her understanding of the lesson he was teaching her. "Good," Tig whispered back, pushing her thigh a bit further apart as his hand guided the swollen head of his cock against the wetness of her already quivering opening. "You're mine, I'm yours…feel that."

Chapter 17; Part 2

Joss had maybe tried a little too hard not to notice when the front door bell rang, she just kept cutting up sausage links with her fork, hoping that Gemma would be who got up to answer the door so she could quickly scrape the meat onto Clay's waiting plate.

"You expecting anyone?" Gemma asked of Clay as she set down her coffee and looked towards the door.

"Nope," Clay shook his head and turned towards the door as well. "Unless you know who's limping by with another problem."

Gemma sighed. "That's the last thing I need," she said as she got up from the table to get the door, and Joss's heart broke a little bit for her again…Jax, whatever he was doing, it was really hurting Gemma.

"Hey," Clay mumbled quietly as he checked to see that Gemma was well out of earshot. "I know orders like this usually come down to you from Tig, but hell, you got my last name now, so I'm telling you," again Clay glanced in the direction that Gemma had disappeared. "Jax is off limits, no talking to him; no contact with him. You got it?"

Whoa…what exactly was it that Jax was into? Whatever it was, Clay certainly didn't want Joss to be a part of it…but…hmm…why was he telling her not to talk to or make contact with Jax? Joss never made the first conversational move with anyone, it wasn't good "property" manners…but should she be expecting that Jax may try to initiate contact with her? Why? She really wanted to know, but there was no chance of finding out now, all she could do was nod at Clay and try to be surprised when she heard the voice at the front door.

"Tig?" Gemma greeted and asked all at the same time as she opened the house door. "Clay didn't say you were coming, I would have fried a few more eggs." She said in an affable enough manner but everyone who could hear Gemma knew she wasn't pleased that he was there.

The smile that broke out over Joss's face couldn't have been more genuine…even if less than a half hour ago she'd kissed Tig "goodbye" as he'd climbed back out of Jax's bedroom window, again telling her to always feel that he was with her, wherever she was. And now he was back again at the front door? She'd get to see her man again? He'd told her he'd be back…but wow, this was pretty soon! She turned in her chair to look at him at the front door…wearing the same dark jeans and black, western style shirt he'd had on when he'd climbed through the bedroom window the night before…oh no…this wouldn't be his only visit today, would it?

"Sorry Gemma," Tig answered as he leaned there casually in the doorway, his sunglasses dangling from one hand. "Don't worry about me, not eatin' much without Joss around," he said, and Joss felt herself simpering at how well Tig was able to find his own dig to politely throw back at Gemma, but he didn't linger on it. "Clay up yet?"

"Yeah," Gemma sighed, and seemed so uncharacteristically out of ammunition. "Dining room table," she paused, "With Joss."

"Thanks," Tig folded his shades and stuck them into the inside pocket of his cut. "Okay if I see her too? It's been awhile."

Joss nearly choked on the hot tea she'd lifted to her lips. How could her man stand there and say that with such a straight face? Joss was blushing red and trying not to laugh…"it's been awhile…" yeah, like twenty-two minutes! Whatever…if Tig could sneak into Jax's bedroom each night and fuck her like he had last night, she'd be able to get through this separation thing with no problems. She was lucky to have such a devious and twisted old man…who had fucked her slow and gently this morning, while Gemma was up and conscious and on her throne…but clearly not aware of all that occurred in her kingdom.

"Like I could stop you from looking at her," Gemma answered somewhat snidely, but then just walked away, passed the table and straight back into the kitchen, leaving Tig to make his way into the dining room himself, and Joss was on her feet by the time he got there.

"Hey," Clay smiled as Tig appeared, but Joss was to him first, her arms going around him as if she hadn't seen him in as long as he'd claimed it had been, but Joss heard Clay start to laugh as she clung longingly to Tig. "You can give the theatrics a rest," he said as he picked up his coffee and lowered his voice, but peered up at Tig. "If all the bumping around last night wasn't you with this girl, then I'd like to know why Joss was moving the furniture around all night."

Joss blushed again…Clay knew Tig was here last night? And Clay also knew what she and Tig had been doing…he'd heard them…doing it? Eeeeew! She had Clay's last name, he was like her dad now…and he knew what she was doing in her room last night….Eeeeeew! Damn…should she even try to deny it? Yeah, and say what? That she had been moving furniture all night? She glanced up at Tig, who was all smirk, but Joss just shook her head…damn he was so good in bed that she couldn't even begin to wish her man wasn't so wild and untamed…and that big, long, wide, hard cock…as soon as it was inside of her, Tig owned her, fucking her so hard and deed that Joss thought she could feel every pulsating blue vein that swelled upon it…and the broad chest…hmm, she was blushing again, but this time it was for quite a different reason…better stop this little game or reminiscence before it turned into something "else." Something else…it would be nice if she could Clay to be thinking 'something else' about her…now that he knew what was happening in Jax's old room last night, and Joss looked up at Tig and sighed. "I told you," she admonished and wound her arms around one of Tig's. "You're noisy," she smiled at him, and Tig nodded in agreement, which only made Joss laugh as he turned his attention back to Clay. Maybe her man truly did have business with Clay after all?

"Sorry about that," Tig quietly chuckled, putting his arm around Joss as he checked Gemma's location in the kitchen. "Hope we didn't keep you awake."

But Clay shook his head. "No, don't worry about it. If someone had some lunatic idea to take my woman away, I'd be doing ever bit of what you're doing."

"Yeah," Tig half sighed, then looked down at Joss and then back at Clay, and once more, checked to see that Gemma was busy in the kitchen. "That's what I wanted to talk to both of you about," he said, glancing between the two of them. "We gotta make some changes…starting with the wedding."


	18. Cuts and Bruises

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 18

This was strange…but kind of brilliant. Gemma was obviously stymied by Tig calling and saying he'd like to have her, Clay, Bobby and himself and Joss all around the dining room table once more to go over some wedding shit that hadn't been covered yet. However, Gemma hadn't turned him down, and Joss had been excited mostly because she'd get to see her man…but whether or not he could actually re-distinguish some of Gemma's wedding plans, well, Joss doubted that…mama wanted what mama wanted…mama…yeah, Joss had always kind of thought of Gemma that way…and now Gemma thought of herself that way too…big time!

Gemma was currently staring over at Joss and Tig with so much disapproval glowing in her smoky eyes, but it had nothing to do with anything Tig had suggested or protested, because they hadn't even gotten started yet…it was the seating arrangements Gemma was glaring at…Clay at the end of the table, Bobby on his left, beside Gemma and on the other side was Tig immediately to Clay's right…with Joss sitting crosswise in Tig's lap. He'd never held her on his lap before, but this seemed to have been planned…another show for Joss to take notice of how ineffective Gemma's efforts to separate them were, and Joss wasn't complaining…it was so good to be close to Tig like this! She hadn't seen him all day, and while she still wasn't certain that this would be it for the day, she was happy to be with him like this…his strong arm around her, gently rubbing her back or her shoulder, and when she leaned against his broad chest, she could feel his heart beating within in it. It hadn't been such a great day for the stupid pain in her side that Joss still tried to tell herself was imaginary, but being here, close to her man, able to lay her head on his shoulder whenever she liked to, was doing such wonders!

"Your legs are going to fall asleep," Gemma warned, her eyes on Tig before anyone could even begin talking wedding shit…and Joss turned her face against Tig's neck and rolled her eyes…Jesus, Gemma loved to talk wedding shit…how many times had Joss sat at this table and tried to think of a way to make her stop…and this was it?

Tig just smiled and shook his head a little, lifting Joss's chin up from where she hid her expression against his neck and then kissed her before looking back at Gemma. "Gonna have some nice fuckin' dreams then," he replied to her, and both Clay and Bobby gave a chuckle, but Joss did see Bobby's stare linger on Tig a bit, as if asking him what he was thinking; was he really going to defy the queen, in her own house? Tig only nodded in Bobby's direction…yes…Tig was…Gemma was about to come up against it…and while Joss was grateful that her man was finally here to be her champion; it was making her really fucking nervous! Tig wasn't nervous though…not at all; he looked coolly over at Gemma, "So look, I'm not feelin' all the white shit at this wedd—"

"This is ridiculous," Gemma sighed, her censure still heartily focused on Tig. "I feel like I'm planning a wedding for a ventriloquist and his dummy!"

"'Dummy?'" Clay turned to her, but he clearly wasn't about to back her up. "Hey, you wanna be known as the kind of mother who verbally berates her kids?" He asked, but only half seriously. "Besides, that one's got my name; I get to screw her up."

Again all the men laughed, but Joss knew better than to do so…in fact, she cringed a little…oh no…did Clay realize that he'd sort of implied that Gemma had "screwed" Jax "up?" He couldn't have meant to imply such a thing…Clay had always blamed so much of the mess Jax was on himself, not on Gemma. But Gemma didn't look happy, that was for sure, and her animosity, whether it was directly related to what Clay may have implied, was bearing its teeth full on at Tijo again. She glared at Clay, "It's not you I'm worried about 'screwing' anything!" She cut at him, her words full of her own implications for both Tig and Clay alike, and then she steadied angry eyes on Joss and her man. "Joss, sit in the God damn chair!" She shouted and pointed vehemently at the piece of furniture she was ordering Joss to.

Joss stiffened against Tig, feeling like a scolded child, and she was looking towards the chair Gemma was still pointing to, but Tig could feel every reaction of her body and he knew her every thought. His hand moved under the blanket of her long, ebony hair and pinched the skin gently at the base of her skull, almost like holding her by the scruff of the neck, then turned his head until his lips were right against her ear, speaking is so quiet a voice that not even Joss would have heard him had his mouth not been so close. "This is like when you thought you had to fix doctor bitch…you can't make everyone happy, and you don't have to!" He murmured, and then clutched at her neck a bit more, holding her where she was, not about to let her move, and then Tig locked eyes with Gemma, but spoke to Joss, "Joss, who you belong to at this table?"

She didn't have to make everyone happy…she didn't have to make everyone happy…Joss repeated that to herself so many times in the milliseconds of her torn in two reasoning. She belonged to Tig, and it was okay to say so…no matter where they were, she'd always belong to Tig…but Gemma…she loved Gemma, just not what Gemma was doing right now…but Gemma wouldn't be doing it if not for that selfish little ninny that was her son…but Tig…Joss loved Tig, he was her world, and she did belong to him. Joss sighed deeply, all eyes at the table on her, everyone waiting to see who she'd side with, even though it should have been obvious, but this damn "living at home" experiment had skewed everything out of its natural order. Bobby and Clay stared at her, and Gemma glowered at her…but Tig, he didn't look at her at all, didn't try to make her say anything…he had that much faith in her? Yeah, he did, and she wouldn't disappoint that, but she did need a little extra support right now, but Tig was right where she needed him to be, his hand firmly taking hers and resting in her lap with a strong, secure hold. Joss relaxed against him a bit, and finally looked at Gemma's scowling face herself. "I'm patched and inked, Gemma." She said as though she had no other choice…which really, she didn't…unless she'd chosen to defy the man that owned her in favor of her matriarch…hmm…she could have, but Tig had known Joss wouldn't…no, nothing could truly remove them from each other.

Joss felt Tig relax a little too, and his hand gave hers a squeeze in her lap, the fingers that gripped the skin at the back of her neck loosening up and now rubbing the spot they'd pinched. "And branded too," he added still looking at Gemma.

And that's when Joss saw it, just as she'd heard Gemma resign to continue to argue Tig at the front door yesterday morning; the queen was resigning to continue arguing with him now. No one else seemed to notice it, but Joss swore that Gemma had gone a bit ashen as she also became quiet, and seemed like she was retreating inwardly…no, this wasn't right…this wasn't Gemma. Joss continued to watch her, carefully, hoping to see some anger flash suddenly in her eyes as the queen rejoined the fight, but she didn't, she just folded her hands in front of her on her table and looked off…at her table…Clay had his table in the chapel, and Gemma had hers here in the dining room…but Joss doubted that the king had ever been silenced like that at his table. Something was wrong…and as much as it seemed to involve Tig, Joss knew it wasn't truly her man that had vanquished Gemma, which was good, because Tig would be lamenting doing so later. But no, Tig's conscience was safe; he'd won his argument with Gemma, but ultimately, it was Jax who had shut her down…Joss could feel it.

"Branded?" Bobby's voice startled Joss and seemed too amused and relaxed for what she'd been watching settle across Gemma's features, but she finally looked away from Gemma and over to Bobby, who was looking more at Tig than Joss. "When the hell that happen?"

Tig glanced down at Joss and kissed her forehead as the hand that had been holding hers moved down to press over the spot low on her left hip that would forever bare the "A" and "T" of his name…his old name. "What? About two years ago?" Tig asked of her, and Joss nodded, remembering waking up with the searing pain and the acrid smell of singed flesh one morning, only to find that she'd been permanently marked, only she didn't know what it meant then, and Tig, he hadn't been prepared to back it up either. Tig looked down at her again like he was remembering how it all went down right along with her then he looked over towards Gemma, about hammer another nail into the coffin. "She's been mine for a long time; just took me awhile to admit it. But I am now, God damn it."

Gemma looked up momentarily but said nothing, and Joss felt like she should get up and race over to her and hug her or something, but she didn't, it would unravel everything Tig had set into motion, and no matter what, Joss had to side with her man…they'd face many things in their future, but everything would fine as long as Joss sided with her man. But Gemma…she was hurting too much to spit anymore venom, and Joss looked up at Tig with concern brimming over in her green eyes, begging him to let Gemma be…she was down, she was quiet; there was no need to keep pounding her into the ground. Tig's eyes shifted to Gemma briefly, noticing too that the queen had seemingly 'removed' herself, and he glanced back at Joss and nodded, with concern lighting his own ice blue eyes, but still, he held Joss to him tightly.

"This really is the final "T" to cross for you two," Said Bobby and Tig nodded. "So, is Joss wearing her patch at the wedding?"

Hmm…was she? No one had ever said anything about that…it certainly wasn't something that Gemma had ever mentioned…but then, Gemma didn't wear her own patch. Joss looked up at Tig again and he looked down at her, but both of them kind of shrugged. "You want to?" Tig finally asked her, and Joss already knew she did…she thought…well…yeah, she did…maybe it would help out that stupid Swan Lake dress some! But before she could answer, Clay posed another question.

"Will that patch fit over whatever Gemma'll have you trussed up in?" asked the old king, and Gemma huffed a bit, showing signs of life once more which all at once made Joss feel better…and worse.

"Yeah, I think." Joss half smiled, "And I don't see any reason why I can't wear my patch," she looked up at Tig again. "I really should, shouldn't I?" She asked, but it wasn't Tig who answered.

"No!" Came Gemma's sudden response, "Maybe for a few pictures after the ceremony, but not during!" Enough of Gemma's attitude was renewing with every word that Joss had to lay her head down on Tig's shoulder again to hide that she was rolling her eyes. She didn't know what was worse; Gemma's broken hearted silence, or her broken hearted need for control.

"Gemma," Clay cut in, reaching over and putting his hand over both of his wife's. "This is one thing you can't decide. The girl belongs to Tig, the decision rests with him."

Joss sighed a bit in relief, finally a decision that Gemma couldn't interfere with, by order of not just the life, but also the king! Joss looked to Tig again, and he smiled down at her and stroked her hair. "Wear it," he told her. "There couldn't be a better occasion for it."

Joss was beaming…wow, something was taking precedence over the stupid Swan Lake dress! And her patch over the halter style dress with the less poofy, but still poofy enough to make Joss sick, skirt was going to dramatically take the 'princess' look down a thousand! Yay! "Thank you," she whispered to Tig; it was so good to have something that truly was them in their wedding!

"It's going to look atrocious," Gemma huffed, then looked off again, knowing that was the end of what she could truly say on the subject any longer, but neither Joss nor Tig gave a rat's ass about "atrocious."

"Congrats," Bobby offered as he looked over at Joss and Tig…wow, so even Bobby was on their side? Awesome! Joss smiled again, trying not to look at Gemma the same way Bobby was trying not to look at her either, Bobby's eyes fell downwards against his spiral bound book of notes instead. "Hey, I know we're going with traditional vows…" he glanced up at Tig, recalling the controversy over the "L" word, "or, some kind of modified version thereof," Bobby corrected, "but I need to know when we're getting close to doing them, so what song is Joss walking down the aisle to?"

Gemma immediately folded her arms over her chest and huffed again, eyeing Joss and Tig. "Go ahead; I can hardly wait to hear this…"


	19. Whiter Shade of Pale

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 19

"You going to be okay here?" Tig asked as Joss walked with him to his bike, her hand in his, the contact between them unhidden and any opportunity to touch one another seemed to be taken. It was dark now, he couldn't stay forever, Joss knew that, but still, it was so hard to see him leaving…that pain in her side was amping up again, and she was doing her best not to let her eyes get misty. Tig…two hours at Gemma's dining room table wasn't enough; Joss wanted to be in his arms for a long time to come, to be returning home with him, to their bed, where he could do whatever he liked to her, and she'd gladly let him, just soaking up the pure blissful pleasure of being close to her man. This wedding wasn't coming fast enough, and then again, it was coming too fast…not much had changed tonight, but at least she knew she'd have her patch to diminish the ethereal ridiculousness of the Swan Lake dress…and her patch to make her look a little bit more like she did indeed belong with Tig…Tig…yes, he'd done a wondrous job of showing Joss how they could never be truly parted, how she'd never stop being his no matter that they weren't together, but still…he was leaving again…and it killed her a little each time he did.

"No," she said without realizing that the word might actually come out of her mouth, but it had, and it had made Tig stop dead where they stood in front of his matte black dyna with all the spikes and skulls that in itself could shut down that fairy-like dress! But Gemma loved the Swan Lake dress…Gemma…

"C'mere," Tig told her quietly, and pulled her against him, wrapping his strong arms around her and holding her tightly, resting his chin on top of her head and giving Joss exactly what she needed to feel at this moment. The safety of his embrace had never felt so good, the comforting scents of black leather and automotive grease and oil, with a hint of gasoline that she'd always noticed before whenever she was close to Tig, filling her with much the longed for nostalgia of being with him the way she used to be, but now those scents that had once been so ordinary had an authority that was both alluring and heartening. He groaned a bit as he held her to him, the alacrity of the power in the biceps that flexed against her shoulders, and the span of the strong hand that rubbed her back soothingly suddenly so prominent in Joss's senses. She turned her head until her ear was against the broad chest she nuzzled, the sound of Tig's beating heart echoing inside her own body giving her some ability to continue on without him, even if he weren't embarking on some great journey, not to be seen or heard from for years. It didn't matter how long he'd be gone, because he'd still be gone, and Joss never wanted to leave this shelter, she was close to her man, in his strong arms, he loved her, she'd always be his. Tig's hand pressed to the back of her head and he held her a little closer still. "Now don't start crying on me again, little girl…you're really startin' to tear me the fuck up with that shit Joss, so don't do it, I swear to God."

His voice was full of annoyance and threatening intentions, but his touch and the protective way Tig kept her against him failed to convey any such malice. "I won't cry," Joss replied as quickly as she could, knowing full well that Tig really hated it when she cried, he hated what it meant he'd have to do for her, and he hated even more how it made him feel…she knew that and she hated upsetting her man too, but Joss hoped she could keep the promise she'd just made him. Best to keep her face hidden against the sanctuary of his broad chest a little bit longer, just to make sure no tears were about to explode down her face when she looked up at him…damn it…the "on" button had somehow been pressed and now her right side was turning up its menace.

"No, you won't," Tig agreed, but whatever macho shit he'd been trying to pull off with his prior warning about tears was missing in his voice this time. In fact he chuckled a bit as he held her. "You're still pissed with me for the dumb song I said I wanted at the wedding."

Within the sheltering darkness of Tig's embrace, Joss began to giggle herself and without even realizing it, forgot the throbbing in her side and lifted her head up to smile at him. "I'm not pissed unless you were serious…you weren't, were you?" She asked him now that she had the chance to do so. But then again, only Tig could suggest his bride process down the aisle to "Time of the Season" by The Zombies. He was smirking now, laughing a bit, and it made Joss laugh some more too, the possibility of tears nowhere in her thoughts. "'What's your name? Who's your daddy?'" She laughed again, looking at Tig like he was as crazy as he was, and he was nodding now and laughing more himself like there weren't any more romantic lyrics ever written but the ones Joss had just recited. "No," Joss shook her head smiling. "I admit to not being into the whole wedding thing, but I do have standards, Tig."

"Yeah," he sighed, and his smile faded a bit as he stroked her hair. "I'm sorry I couldn't get more of that shit to meet your standards, baby."

But Joss shook her head and entwined her hands with his. "No, you got me my patch," she smiled, "and I didn't even realize what a victory that was at first, but it is, and it really does make me feel better!"

"Me too," Tig acknowledged, and leaned down to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her again and hugging her to him. "And I'll get you your song too," he promised straightening again and laying his fingers against her cheek with one hand and smoothing the back of his other hand over her cheek slowly. "It's us, when I hear the words 'Whiter Shade of Pale,' I think of you, baby." His gorgeous, cool, blue eyes were taking in her every feature, his touch so appreciatively gossamer…Joss was fighting not to tear up all over again, but for such different reasons now. "You're so beautiful," Tig nearly whispered, like maybe he didn't even realize he was saying it to her, and maybe he didn't. It was rare that he ever told her she was beautiful, but that was okay, Joss knew he thought so, and when he did tell her how beautiful she was to him, it was a fond moment that Joss always remembered each one of.

Joss smiled again and her heart pounded against Tig's broad chest, she loved him so much! He'd come to fight for her tonight, and fight for her he had, maybe not winning every contest, but Joss hadn't foreseen any outcome being in her favor. What song she'd process down the aisle to was still being debated though. Gemma had been so not impressed by Joss's choice of music, but it wasn't exactly the lyrics, or their meanings, that had made Joss want the best known Procol Harum song, it was the hauntingly beautiful organ music at the very beginning of "Whiter Shade of Pale" that was so attractive. It was perfect for she and Tig, nothing religious, because Joss was quickly realizing during this separation that she and Tig were each other's religions, and the reverberant, eerie splendor of the Hammond organ part was so them! It was as out of place in a song about a night of drunken seduction as Joss and Tig were themselves at the wedding Gemma was planning.

"Thank you," Joss sighed again, closing her eyes as Tig's hand slid from her face and down over her neck until it slowly fell away from her, and she laid her head against his chest again and tried to sink into him somehow…he'd be leaving soon, she knew it. "I just want to get this damn thing over with so I can be with you again," she said, and felt Tig's embrace tighten around her. "This whole thing feels like the 'pain' before the 'gain.'"

"We'll get through it," he promised her, but then tipped her chin up with a familiar look of concern in his eyes all over again. "You still don't know what it is, do you?" He asked, but didn't even give her a chance to answer. "It's more than just missing me, little girl, you gotta know that, because this thing with you needin' me to be you God damn blanket all the time started before Gemma…got involved."

"Tig," Joss sighed and wished he'd give this up…only, she couldn't really say that he wasn't right…something was wrong with her, and it had started prior to Gemma separating bride from groom. "Every time you bring it up I feel like I should have an answer for you, but I don't, okay?" She didn't mean to sound exasperated, but she knew she had, and immediately shook her head. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to make it sound like it's your fau—"

"No," Tig cut her off and brushed her black hair behind her ear. "You're right, and I have been putting pressure on you to figure it out, and that ain't right," he said, his voice tinged with a little disappointment in himself that Joss felt terrible about making him feel. "I just fuckin' hate being worried about you," he admitted, and as if to even more clearly demonstrate his emotion wracked ambivalence, stroked she same piece of her hair free from where he'd just tucked it behind her ear. "I'm watching you fight with something that you can't even see, and I can't get in there to help you cuz I can't see it either until you can." He sighed next, closed his eyes and shook his head a little, pulling her close again. "And what's really fucked up is that I think I could be helping you figure this shit out if I could be with you more than just a few bullshit hours a week…you got even more of my heart than I even knew I had, baby…and it's not easy to stand here where I am in this right now."

"I know," Joss answered, but wished she could say more than that; Tig loved her, and she hated to think that love was giving him such grief. All the wedding shit and the pain in her side, and the fact that she was sure that not being with Tig was somehow killing her, had distracted Joss from everything and anything else that might have been going on with her…damn it…she had to figure this out…but it wouldn't be easy, it never had been before. "I'm sorry, Tig," she said, looking up at him with such a helpless expression. "I wish I could tell you what it was, or when I'd finally know what it was, but I can't. All I can tell you is that unfortunately over the years, and all the shit I've been through, my subconscious has gotten better at camouflage than the Marines…" she paused a moment, and leaned into Tig's strong frame a little more and willed herself not to start to tremble…she had to make him understand where she was herself with this, even if it meant bringing up the fucked up tragedy of her childhood. But she was with Tig, he knew anyway, and he still loved her…it was okay. Again Joss took a deep breath. "I used to think I was being abducted by aliens until I was eleven years old…because my mind just wasn't strong enough to face the truth; that the thing that came into my room every night and stood there at the foot of my bed…and started to touch me…was my father…not an alien."

"Joss stop," Tig said directly…and no wonder, try as she might, Joss could feel that she wasn't ready to talk about this, not even as part of a non-graphic explanation for something else, she was shaking…or…was she?

No, she wasn't shaking…she felt…well, perhaps not 'fine,' but she wasn't debilitated either. "I'm okay," she insisted, looking up at Tig, who looked back down at her and stroked her hair with a trembling hand. Her brow furrowed.

"Well I'm not," he admitted, starring down at her with an impotent protective anger boiling in his clear, blue eyes and then instantly pulled her back against him hard, hugging her so tightly it made Joss gasp involuntarily. She should have known…it didn't matter that Tig didn't even know her then, it didn't matter that even if he did, she was a kid, a child…they'd never have been what they were now, she wouldn't have been his…it only mattered to her man that she'd been hurt then, and he was powerless to do anything about it…just like he was powerless to do anything about what was wrong now until Joss knew what it was that was wrong…hmm…no wonder he'd come out swinging the way he had at Gemma over this wedding shit? Tig loved Joss, and he was going to keep her safe one way or another.

"Hey," Joss half mumbled against Tig's broad chest, because he wasn't letting her go. "I don't want you worrying about me, okay?" Tig's hold loosened just enough for Joss to angle her head up towards his. "I'll figure this out, I promise you that. And when I do, I know you'll be there for me."

"Yeah," Tig nodded, still looking like he felt derelict in his duties somehow…like he should have been there to stop what her father was doing to her, even though it was a useless, guilty anger to feel. Joss managed to get an arm free and reached up to cup his jaw and smile at him a little, he needed to know she was alright…and she was…except of course that Tig was leaving. He turned his neck until his lips were against her palm and he kissed it, then leaned down and kissed her lips softly, Joss memorizing how each dark, stiff whisker of his mustache and beard prickled against her skin…he was leaving. "Jesus fucking Christ…and to think I was trying to make you feel better when we started this conversation!" He sighed, but a meager smile graced his face.

"You did," Joss replied with her own smile, and tried like hell not to think about how she'd feel as she watched him drive away…away from her…no…she wasn't going to cry…and damn it…this pain in her right side was going to go away too! She sighed and leaned forward to rest her forehead to his, and she took both Tig's hands again, as if trying still to hold on and not let him go…not ever. "You'll come back to me tonight, right?" She asked, her eyes shifting up at his imploringly.

Tig seemed to have calmed a bit now himself, looking down at her almost like he was asking her permission for something. "It'll be late," he told her, but Joss smiled and her heart leapt because he hadn't said "no." "I got this thing with Ope in like a half hour, and I don't know how long it's going to take."

Opie? Joss lifted her head all together, smiling a little more, but carefully…Tig likely didn't want a lot of reaction to what he'd told her, but still, she was just so curious to know what Tig was doing with Opie, because it didn't sound vengeful, or even spiteful…and it had none of the heaviness, that had been bringing both she and her man down, attached to it, either! She really did want to subtly encourage some kind of friendship between Tig and Opie, Tig would need him one day. "Ope did good at the photo shoot," she said, but tried not to sound overly impressed. "Yeah, some shit got messed up, but really, you sent the right guy to lay down the law, Tig."

"Yeah," Tig sighed like sending Ope to the shoot was still going to somehow cost him something, as would whatever he was doing with Opie tonight. "But, if you want me tonight, you got me." He finally confirmed. "I told you, I ain't leavin' you…not fucking ever!"

Joss's smile really blossomed now, and she kissed Tig, even happier when he deepened and held the kiss a lot longer than she'd intended, his hands cupping her ass and pulling her dangerously close, some new passion born out of an old struggle. Yeah, if she 'wanted him tonight,' she most definitely had him! "Okay," she whispered, out of breath and still savoring the taste of Tig's mouth, but she had to let him go, he had that curious thing with Opie! "I have to get inside, check on Gemma…let her yell and scream at me so she'll feel better." Joss laughed a little, but really the fact that Gemma had appeared to call her back inside worried Joss a little.

"Gemma," Tig sighed again in a regretful manner, that Joss knew to expect, then he kissed Joss one more time and finally threw one leg over his bike, but his ice blue eyes were on Joss the whole time. He pointed at her, the frustration of not being able to help Joss gone and that commanding strength replacing it once more. "I know Gem's going through some shit, but don't you start telling her, or yourself, that any of this is your fault, you gettin' me, little girl?"

"Yes," Joss nodded, and hoped one more time that she could keep that promise…Tig had worked awfully hard lately to demonstrate to her that they'd always be together, and that it was okay to want what she wanted at her wedding…even if actually getting it wasn't at all easy. She watched as Tig leaned forward to start the dyna, the engine unapologetically roaring away…Tig had modified that engine and the exhaust to really make a ground shaking statement when it came to life…Tig, he was noisy; but Joss had always known the sound of Tig's bike, and he'd always been there to rescue her just when she'd needed it the most…and their wedding was no exception…as odd as that was.

"Good," he called to her over the power and clamor of the matte black bike, putting his helmet and night glasses on. "Tell me you love me," he said, reaching out and pulling her a little closer to him and the bike, and Joss wished so hard that she could just climb onto the back, wrap her arms around his waist, and be going home with her man…but not for a few more days…only a few more days. Ha! How was that prissy Swan Lake dress going to look on the back of Tig's bike?

"I love you," she said, and managed a smile now, then leaned down to kiss him one last time, Tig standing on the foot pegs so she didn't have to lean down too far, and again his tongue tangled with hers for longer than expected, making so many good things thrive within her again…she loved him…and he'd come back to her tonight. "Be careful," she smiled at him again. "I'll leave the window open," she furthered then laughed a little, still wondering what was up with Tig and his new best friend. "And play nice with Ope!"


	20. Devil in a Black Dress

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 20

Gemma was sitting on the couch when Joss went back inside, Gemma's third cigarette burning at her lips as evidenced by the two butts that littered the ashtray beside her. She didn't even look at Joss as she came in the front door…great, this was going to be even more fun than Joss had originally thought…but, someone had to take this beating from Gemma, and it made sense if it was Joss…Jax wasn't around anywhere, and even if he was, Joss doubted Gemma would strike. This would have been easier to deal with if Joss's right side would give it a rest though, for not only would Joss have to accept her lashes…no, accept Jax's lashes, but she'd also have to do so while covering up the fact that she was in ever increasing pain…Tig…he'd be back…she just had to remember that.

"Hey," Joss said as she sat down at the other end of couch from Gemma, her ears for a moment tuning into the TV in the next room that told her Clay was here, so Joss did still have one defender nearby if she should require one…but still, she had to sacrifice herself here…things weren't ever going to be tolerable again if she didn't.

Gemma sighed, but still didn't look at her, just contemplated the filter of her cigarette. "If you've come to gloat over your little patch victory, I'm afraid I'm too tired to be real responsive right now," she said flatly. "Try me tomorrow."

Joss didn't sigh, didn't roll her eyes, didn't do any of the things she really felt like doing, most of all being to clutch her right side again as whatever was in there began to twist around in agony again. She looked at Gemma, that glamour and spark gone from her eyes, there was just a brooding fury left behind…Joss knew it wasn't all about the wedding and her patch, but Jesus, it was just a patch…everything else had remained as Gemma had decreed it would be! No, don't bring animosity into this…it would only make things worse. Joss took a moment to collect herself and finally looked back at Gemma with a smile of feigned gratitude. "Actually, I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to wear it."

Gemma harrumph-ed a sarcastic laugh, "Yeah, like you need my permission for anything," she said bitterly as she flicked the ash from her cigarette. "I'm not who you listen to; I'm not even you, or anyone else, seems to care about the most."

Oh hell, Gemma hadn't just pulled the "no one likes me" card had she? Okay, so Clay had made that thoughtless comment that had implied Gemma had "screwed up" her son…but damn it…this was really getting stupid, and Joss was really getting angry, she hadn't bargained for being harangued by some pouting, delusional bitch…but Joss was doing her best to temper it, trying to think about the pain in her right side now, because it was beginning to drown out a lot of things. But Joss couldn't lie about where her true allegiance was; it would never work. "Tig owns me, Gemma. I'm happy with him, I love him. I don't think I have to explain, or defend, why he is who I ultimately listen to, and have to make my priority."

Gemma finally turned her head to look at Joss, her long manicured nails disappearing into her highlighted hair as she propped her head on her hand against the arm of the couch, taking another long draw from her cigarette. "You know what you two are like?" She asked, sounding angry, but for some reason angrier about not being able to get in between Joss and her man than Gemma was actually angry about Joss's patch over the Swan Lake dress. "Have you ever seen those haunted house shows? They bring in a psychic, who always comes up with some bullshit claim about there being 'a benevolent spirit' that's being 'subdued and controlled by a demonic one?'" She asked, and despite Joss's best efforts, she felt her eyes narrow a little bit. "That's what you and Tig are…a demon and his lackey, and you're both here to fuck with me until I just can't take it anymore!"

Remain calm…remain calm…Joss said it to herself again and again, but despite that, she was shaking her head now, eyes narrowed even more…how dare anyone call her man "evil?" Tig was a lot of things, but evil? No! He had a heart…a bit twisted and so well hidden and even disfigured, it was often times mistaken for psychosis, but Tig cared harder about some things than anyone Joss had ever known, and SAMCRO, and his old lady were two of them…and Gemma was another…and she'd just called him "evil?" Adrenalin poured forth like a tidal wave within Joss, overshadowing the pain in her right side, her shoulders compressing downwards with the heavy breath she exhaled, like the hiss of a big snake…no…don't explode at Gemma…if Joss let herself go, if she didn't keep herself guarded, that beast was going to come raging out…and historically when that happened, people died. Joss took another deep breath…she wouldn't hurt Gemma…she wouldn't. "That's really not a fair statement, Gemma." She said, trying to think about the living room as a courtroom, and herself as the defense attorney…defense attorneys didn't freak out and kill people. "I trust that what Tig does and says is what's best for the club, and what's best for me, so yeah, I follow his directions, and it doesn't have very much to do with you personally."

"The hell it doesn't!" Gemma retorted, snuffing out her cigarette hotly in the ashtray. "You do whatever he says not because you trust he's got your best interest at heart, but because he's the only person you love enough to listen to!"

Whoa…how had they gotten here? Gemma suggesting that Joss was fighting the queen's wedding ideas because Joss didn't love her? Really? Jesus…how could Gemma say something like that? After all that Joss had submitted to? After all the times when Gemma suggested or demanded things concerning the wedding that made Joss's stomach turn over, and yet Joss said nothing to indicate displeasure, or any other negative feelings towards Gemma's ideas? Joss loved Gemma…but apparently not enough to please the queen; was that it? How fucking stupid, and full of betrayal, was that claim? How could Gemma say that? What was she basing it on? It couldn't be the last few hours at the dining room table with Tig! Good God, because Joss, and Tig, wanted their wedding…THEIR wedding, to reflect who they were, it meant that Joss didn't love Gemma? And she'd called Tig a "demon?" Joss was slipping again…away from herself and under the control of the most frightening thing she'd ever known…she felt her jaw clench and her muscles tense, fingers curled into claws…into claws…no! This was Gemma…and despite what Gemma may have thought about Joss's loyalty and love for her, Joss wouldn't hurt Gemma…even if Gemma was hurting her. Joss would have cried, but now was no time to exhibit weakness like that…there was still very much a shark in the water, sitting there on the couch, glowering at her…but Joss would let Gemma know she'd talked enough shit for the night. Joss shivered a little as the tension across her shoulders and in her neck broke, and she shook her fingers straight again, taking another deep breath…a cleansing breath, and looked up at Gemma. "Why do you have to put yourself in competition with Tig? Why are you doing that to me?" She asked, realizing that a fair share of her own anger was still attached to every word, but it was too late now to do anything about it, it was out there, Gemma had heard every cold, crisp, irritated tone of Joss's voice…but Joss had kept back the beast…somehow…this time. "I love Tig, you're right about that, and I won't apologize for it! But to tell me that it means I don—"

"Oh bullshit, Joss!" Gemma cranked back, standing up now from the couch and obviously about to exit the room to some place where this conversation wouldn't follow her. "You don't love him, that's an understatement!" She snarled, pointing a French manicured nail in Joss's direction. "Your patch, and your ink, your God damn brand, and every other vile mark he's put on you!" She shouted as if everything she named should have been a source of shame. "You're possessed by him, in more ways than you know!"

Chapter 20; Part 2

"What about this one?" Tig asked over the sound of the intermittent buzzing of the alarm. He was more than fed up with this, standing here in a room full of women's clothing, racks and racks of skirts, dresses, blouses, gowns, pants and whatever else surrounding he and Ope…in the dark, both of them using flashlights as they moved hangers down the bars they hung on, one by one, looking for…shit…what were they looking for?

Opie looked up from his hunting and sighed, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe Tig had interrupted him to ask about the garment he held. "What color is that?"

Tig looked at the dress, holding it near than far off, shining the flashlight on it a little more…fuck, Tig had broken into a lot of places for a lot of reasons, but breaking into this studio, to steal a fucking dress…really? Is this what he'd become? Okay, the dress was for Joss and Opie swore she'd about melted into a little puddle of 'squee' when she'd seen it…but what the hell did Opie know about what Joss liked? Hmm…okay, Tig didn't really wanna fucking know that…and truth be known, this having been Opie's suggestion, Opie's idea, was making it a little harder for Tig to get into it as well…Tig wanted to be the one to find Joss something she'd like…not have to know that it was really Ope! But Tig held the dress up a little higher, wishing he could remember more of the details Opie had given him about the one Joss was in love with…but c'mon, it was a dress…not a Thunderhead Pipe Baffle! "It's yellow." Tig finally said after giving the dress another once over with the flashlight.

"And is yellow black?" Ope asked wearily as he got back to his rack browsing…like big ol' Chewbadooba at a half off sale at Saks…fuck, Ope just needed a purse hanging off his arm and a big hat with flowers on it, and he'd look perfect for doing this kinda shit!

"No," Tig answered, still looking at the dress he held like it might somehow turn black when he wasn't watching…God fucking damn he hated being here and doing this…he didn't fucking care about lady's clothes…unless there was a lady in them…no, out of them! No, wait, there was no lady in any of these clothes, and Tig was fucking hating it…shit, what was he into anymore?

"So if that's yellow, and yellow isn't black, then how can that be it?" Ope asked, rolling his eyes just enough for Tig to see, then again returned to the hangers and dresses on the rack Ope was searching through.

"God damn it!" Tig fumed and flung the yellow dress and its hanger on the floor with an angry grunt. "Are you sure it's fuckin' in here, man?"

Ope sighed and stopped his perusing once more. "Look, I remember seeing all these clothes in here during Joss's shoot, so yeah, it has to be." Once more he began to scrape hangers down the bar that held them. "We don't have a lot of time left, you know…that alarm's going to be bringing someone out here in the next few minutes, so get to work…one thing I don't want is to be caught stealing women's clothing…with you!"

Tig nodded, turning back to the rack in front of him…they had to find that dress, if Joss did love it as much as Opie claimed she did, then it was the perfect wedding gift to get for her…Tig just hoped he could maybe finagle, or brute out, a way for Joss to be able to wear it at their wedding…they had to find it…somehow in the sea of all this women's clothing…hey, what the fuck had Chewbadooba meant by "I don't wanna get caught stealing women's clothing…with you?" No, it had been more like, "with YOU!" That was not cool! Tig jerked around at Ope so fast and suddenly that he ended up tipping over the whole rack of dresses Tig was supposed to have been investigating and it landed with a startling crash that made Opie look up. "What the fucking hell are you saying, Ope?" Tig demanded, taking no notice of the satin and lace and silk that pooled all around his heavy, black boots. Normally, Tig could laugh a a comment like that off, he rather enjoyed it when his odd tastes were called into question…but this was Opie doing the calling now…Opie who was in love with Joss…and Opie questioning anything about how virile and stud-like Tig was fucking sucked! "That I'm some kinda cross-dressing fag, that it? Huh?"

"Tig, c'mon, man!" Opie seemed to see the mess of the overturned rack and strewn garments first, but then he threw his hands up in exasperation, sighing and just shook his head like he knew there was only one way out of this. "All the other weirdo shit you're into and you think that some kinda transvestite fetish would be too far-fetched for anyone to believe?"

What the fuck? Seriously? When had Tig ever expressed any interest in women's clothing that wasn't about taking the clothes off of women? He turned more towards Ope, sticking his shoulders out and pointing to himself. "I'm not a fucking transvestite!" He yelled, overtaking the sound of the alarm momentarily.

Opie sighed again and got back to the rack he'd been looking through. "Let's hope not," he said without laying eyes on Tig, but he still sounded flustered. "These are all size fours…what the hell would you wear on your other leg?"

Holy fuck! Was big ol' Chewbadooba standing there smirking now? No he wasn't…no way…no fucking way! Jesus fucking Christ…Tig was going to rip that black skull cap off of his big ol' Chewbadooba head and shove it down his throat, then fling him around this warehouse by that Sumo Wrestler top knot deal Ope had going on…size fours…his other leg…"Now I'm a fat transvestite?" Tig shouted again, stomping all over the dresses that lay around his feet for added effect of how much he hated lady's clothing. "You're the fuckin' transvestite," Tig began mumbling as he continued to try and grind the fabric beneath his feet into the concrete floor. "We go to jail, I'm tellin' everyone you're the one dressin' up…probably for me…fuck yeah, I'll be fine if we go to jail!" Shit…did he just say that? God damn it…yeah he did…fuck…Tig hated it when his mouth and brain got disconnected…but this whole thing fucking sucked! He hated it here and he hated all these fucking lady's clothes…and he fucking hated that this was Opie's idea…Joss was Tig's, not Ope's…why the fuck couldn't Tig have been the one to see her with this mysterious black dress?

"Damn it, would you just get back to work?" Opie begged, looking up for only a second, pulling a few more hangers down the rack in front of him with a great deal of frustration and anger, then looking back at Tig again and glaring like the MIA black dress was somehow Tig's fault…stupid Chewbadooba! "I swear! This is your old lady we're doing this for, man! You say you love her, but you can't get focused on this for even a minute! Maybe you don't give a fuck about what she wants, or what's going to make her happy, but I do! I was there! I saw the look in her eyes, I watched her hold that dress up to herself and damn near shed tears because she knew she couldn't have it, couldn't wear it at her own wedding!"

God damn it…Tig sighed…Ope had a way of grounding him…and that sucked too. Okay, maybe Tig hadn't been the one to see Joss with this black dress, and he'd missed her captivated reaction to it…he couldn't even picture her in it the way Opie obviously could…but it didn't change the fact that Joss loved the black dress…and Tig could find the dress, and give it to her. "Yeah," Tig finally said somewhat ashamedly, and then reached down to grab the rack he'd knocked over and set it upright again…the alarm was still signaling everyone and anyone to come secure this location…they were running out of time, and Tig had wasted a generous portion of it…shit! He grabbed another hanger and moved it down the rack, taking a look at what hung from it, flashlight in his other hand, but this was a dark green…something or other. "Black, right?" he asked over his shoulder of Ope, who calmly nodded, too busy, or maybe…just maybe, too smart to say anything about Tig's sudden cooperation. Okay, black, lace, size four…something about fringe…just find the damn dress…as soon as possible!

"It has to be here," Ope said, moving through his rack a little faster now, and beginning to sound a bit worried. "It just has to be…Joss has to have that dress, bro…"

Shit…there was no reason on this earth that Opie had to come to Tig with the news of this damn black dress and Joss's affection for it. Hell, Ope could have said nothing about it and just stole the fucking thing himself and given it to Joss in an attempt to win points with her…but he hadn't; he'd respected that Joss belonged to Tig, and was allowing Tig to take the spotlight on this one…even though Ope had scouted it and thought of it himself. That all still made Tig sick to think about, but if this dress was going to make Joss happy, then, okay, yeah, that's all that mattered, and he had to start fucking seeing it that. He'd be going back to her tonight…did he want to do it knowing he'd failed to find the dress that she loved so much? No!

But fuck…there was a lot of God damn dresses here…this was like trying to find a needle in Shit Creek…what? What the fuck kinda sense did that make? Whatever; just find the fucking black, lace dress! And do it with a slightly better attitude, this was for Joss, and even if it had all been Opie's idea, Tig couldn't let that make him lose sight of the bigger picture here. Find the dress…find Joss's dress…he held the flashlight over top of the rack he searched through like it was a spotlight, moving one hanger after another down the bar, on the alert for anything that fit the description Opie had given him, making a for real effort this time. That one was red, that one had buttons, that one had no lace, that one had some kind of big, weird birds and flowers printed on it, that one had a bunch of strings hanging off it that fluttered and wriggled when it moved…that was kinda cool…Tig jiggled the hanger, watching the movement of the fine, black fringe, then picked it up, shaking it some more in the beam of the flashlight. "Ope, man, look at this!" He said, waggling the dress again and watching the delicate, black trim bounce and sway. "It's like…a bunch of dancing worms!"

Opie looked up, his expression half scowl, clearly expecting that Tig was out of focus again…or whatever…but when Ope saw what Tig held up, the look on his face changed dramatically. "You like that one?" He asked Tig, and Ope was kind of smiling…which was weird.

Tig glanced at the dress then looked cautiously over at Ope. "Not to put on and wear!" He sneered defensively, ceasing to play with the dress any longer.

Again Opie sighed. "Not even close to what I fucking meant," he said, closing his eyes for a moment, but then looking at Tig again. "I mean, would you like to see Joss wearing it? Can you see her in it?"

Tig looked the dress over again, the hourglass shape of it held his attention quite well, and the low cut neckline would do nice things for her…and him…and it was short, too! And whatever that stuff was that the lace was sewn over top of on the torso would make it look like perhaps Joss's beautiful body was all that was under it…and the dancing worms…no…the more Tig looked at this dress, this dress that Joss's jet hair with the crimson tips, and her Egyptian princess eyeliner, red lips and perfect pale skin would look so…exquisite in, the less he began to see 'dancing worms.' Damn…this dress was a hell of lot more 'them' than either of the two dresses Gemma had picked! Joss should wear this when she married him…this was it! Oh…shit…Tig felt himself start to smile, hoping how in awe of himself he was…no, how in awe of his connection with Joss he was, wasn't showing on his face. He took another look at the black, lace dress from hanger to fringed hem then looked over his shoulder at Opie. "I think I found it."


	21. Chivalry

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 21

The snap and then squeak of the window going up made Joss's eyes fly open and her heart begin to pound like a dog's wagging tail, the noise of her man about to join her halting the dull ache in her right side. She'd been expecting Tig to text when he was on his way, but it was late, maybe he thought she'd be asleep…but nope, not really…just waiting for her man, and trying to relax and make the anxiety over whether he'd actually come tonight stop. It didn't help that Joss was also trying to sort through Gemma's outburst of temper…she'd called Tig a "demon"…that was never going to sit right with Joss, never! But every time she felt herself begin seething over the "D" word, Joss was quick to remind herself that Gemma may have been yelling at her, and saying horrible things about Tig, but it wasn't really Tig, or Joss, that Gemma was angry at…or worse yet, hurt by. Still…she'd called Tig a "demon!"

Joss wouldn't tell Tig what Gemma had said about him, Joss loved him far too much to hurt him with Gemma's words. A "demon"…Joss knew what a demon was…a demon was something that had everyone around it thinking they were benevolent, compassionate, upstanding, and that their every intention was the best, when deep inside they were sick, twisted, hurtful and disgusting fiends that abused the innocent, destroyed every sense of what was right and what security and safety was for them; demons shattered happiness and destroyed hope, making their victims feel like they'd never deserve to be happy because of the evil that had touched them. Demons feasted upon vulnerabilities, they took advantage of those that were weaker, and there were so many ways to be "weaker;" Joss was a kid, she was supposed to love her father, it was an instinct she couldn't' fight, or even comprehend…why would someone who so many people liked so well, and who was supposed to love her, hurt her? She was a kid…there was no way for her to physically fight him off…there was no way Joss could have stopped him from obliterating who she was…no way…except for the one she'd finally perpetrated…demons…how the hell could Gemma say that Tig was one? If anything, Tig had helped free Joss of demonic possession!

Thank God for Clay…he too had heard Gemma's "religious" remarks, and after Gemma had stormed off, Clay had appeared in the living room, sighing at Joss with a look of such distressed apology on his face, sitting down beside her on the couch as the tears began to collect in Joss's eyes. "C'mere," Clay had told her softly, then put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close until Joss's head fell against his broad shoulder, and though she tried hard not to, she began to cry…but it wasn't only Gemma's words that made her cry, it was the feeling of hatred and need for revenge that was stirring within her…Gemma had crossed a line…no one spoke of Tig like that, no one! But Joss loved Gemma…but…how could someone who was supposed to love her hurt her like that?

"You didn't deserve that," Clay had whispered against the top of Joss's head, his big hand rubbing up and down her arm as she tried to get control of her crying and sputtering. "She's got so many of us blocked out right now, kid, and I'm not sure what to do about it, or how to fix it." He said, Joss a bit surprised, but flattered, that Clay would chose to share such personal concerns with her, and she tried to look up and make the eye contact Clay deserved her to make, but he ended up just hugging her to him tighter, rocking her a bit, his strong arms between her and the rest of the world…it felt good. "I ain't sayin' it's right, but you're the closest thing to her right now, little one. And that's why you're gettin' hit."

Joss nodded, she did understand, all of Gemma's most critical attention and highest of expectations were being lavished upon Joss…and no, it most certainly wasn't right, but Joss would bare it…but only up to a certain point. She sat up a bit, but Clay was reluctant to let her go. "I don't care what she says about me, Clay. I don't even care what she does or forces on me as far as this wedding goes," Joss had sighed, raising her head from his shoulder and so ashamed of the wet marks left on the sleeve of his black T-shirt from her weepy eyes, but Clay paid them no mind. "But when she starts in on Tig," and Joss's voice had failed her, going hoarse as her lower lip began to quiver and the tears rolled forth once again. "She can't do that," Joss sobbed, trying to wipe her tears away, and hide her face at the same time…Tig was everything to Joss, mess with him, hurt him, and it didn't matter who it was doing it, it awoke the beast!

"I know," Clay had nodded, his blue eyes reading more in Joss's tear streaked features than she'd meant for him too, and she just knew he was recalling blood spattered on the clubhouse ceiling, the Crescent Wrench clutched in her hands…June Stahl a wriggling heap of lifelessness on the floor…Joss shivered, Clay noticing, his hand patting her shoulder in a fatherly, "it's okay" kind of manner. "I'll talk to her," he promised, and Joss nodded gratefully, Clay handing her a tissue from the box beside him. "You know you're going to be every bit the fierce old lady that Gemma is when the time comes, dontcha?" He smiled at her, making all of the horrors of blood and wrenches that had been flashing through Joss's mind finally settle.

"Thank you," Joss managed as she sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "I hope I am."

"Yeah," Clay still smiled, nodding now. "I wouldn't worry about that at all if I were you, kid." He said then chuckled a bit. "C'mon, let's go sharpen some of those skills with a round or two of 'Resident Evil.'"

The orange-ish, yellow-ish light still glowed on the Wii console, the only light in Jax's old room, just as it had been the only light in Joss's night after Tig had left. But Tig had returned to her again, and Joss sat up in Jax's old bed now, scrambling to the foot of it to greet Tig as he came climbing in through the window, her man was here, he'd lay beside her and she could be close to him…Joss smiled, so much of her terrible evening forgotten now, and she smiled a bit more when she thought of how Tig had that "thing" with Ope…how had that gone? Hmm…Tig may not be able to tell her about that, depending on what it was, but well, Joss would be able to tell from his mood how it went. Oh please be in a good mood…it would mean so much, and do so much, for Joss to know that things between Opie and Tig were firming up as something positive!

And then there was something positive, Tig's big boot appearing through the window, shortly followed by the rest of his six foot two inch frame that unfolded a bit inelegantly as he straightened up…he must really love her to keep squeezing through that little window like that, and Joss smiled as she watched him, standing there silently trying to make sure everything was in place, that he hadn't dropped anything outside, not even looking towards her like he did think she was asleep. "Tig," she smiled and whispered softly, not wanting to startle him…startling Tig wasn't a good idea…not unless the situation called for a gun or knife to be drawn.

He flinched a bit in surprise and looked towards her finally, only inches away in the dark, but now he finally saw her and he smiled. "Hey," he whispered back, leaning down until his hands were on either side of her hips at the foot of the bed. "I told you it'd be late, what you wait up for?" He asked, but gave her no time to answer before covering her mouth with his and kissed her tenderly, but deeply, his tongue nudging hers teasingly and finally pulling away much sooner than Joss wished for it to. Hmm…yeah, that "thing" with Opie went pretty well, whatever it was!

"I can't sleep without you," she answered, "it doesn't matter how tired I am. I end up lying awake wanting to be with you." She kissed him, not holding back, her tongue against his lips, begging the touch of his again, in a rush to have his body against hers…that's all she wanted, Tig close to her, holding her against his chest, his skin on hers, the roughness of his facial hair prickling her lips and cheeks as he lay so heavily upon her that the dark coils of hairs on his broad chest left their imprints upon her white breasts.

"You see?" Tig asked, though he was still kissing her wherever and whenever he could, leaning more into her as he squatted down in front of her, both of Joss's hands gripping his strong shoulders and wanting so badly to lock around his neck. "You're doing it again," he told her, then kissed her once more, catching her under the chin as his lips slid from hers, looking into her eyes like he was worried about her, like he so desperately wanted her to talk to him about what she was feeling. "Makin' me think you're afraid I'm not comin' back to you."

"No," Joss shook her head, so afraid that perhaps what Tig was getting at was that she was having difficulties trusting what he was telling her…no…please, he couldn't be thinking that! "I just…" she sighed, not really knowing how to explain this without saying everything she'd already said to him before. "It's this 'thing'…the whatever it is that I can't get to realizing yet…the thing that makes me want to be close to you, and being kept here just makes missing you ten times worse, that's all."

Tig nodded, his hand moving from her under chin to the back of her head and pulled her close again, kissing her quickly then resting his forehead to hers as he sighed. "We gotta get this shit figured out, baby. Cuz I can't stand knowing you feel that way."

"I'm sorry I've been letting it affect you so much; that's not right. It's my issue, and I'll try harder to keep it to myself, until I do have something to tell you." Joss apologized, trying to lift her head from his, for she was feeling so pathetically silly…Tig had been worried about her, how many times had he asked her if she was "okay?" She shouldn't be doing that to him…making him worry about her while he was dealing with being the next in-line of MC royalty, and whatever the hell was going on with Jax and what it meant for the club. She had to show him that she could deal with it on her own, that she would deal with it on her own, and to convey that she'd begun to cease leaning against him, but Tig didn't allow her to move away from him, his hand pressing a little tighter against her hair when he'd felt her trying to move back.

"No," he told her, and there was a trace of a smile on his lips, and he was likely somewhat amused at the control and responsibility Joss was attempting to assume, at least, that's what it looked like. "Don't tell me about wanting to lay in the ground with me, little girl, and decay into one another and become this one, indivisible mass of goop, and then turn around and say that you'll face your fears alone," he was shaking his head now as his ice blue eyes stared deeply into hers. "Cuz it ain't gonna work like that, and you know that. It didn't even fucking work like that when I fucking wanted it to," Tig sighed again and ran his fingers through her hair, looking at her still like he was unhappy about being happily defeated, "And you know that too. You been fucking me up with this emotion shit for a long time, baby…why stop now?" He asked, and his smile spread a bit more and Joss laughed a bit with him. Tig kissed her again, dropping to both knees before her now and when he looked at her again, his expression was serious once more, so…noble. "I got this whole club to be protecting one day, Joss. And it's not your fault that you don't know what's wrong yet, but it doesn't do a damn thing to change that right now, you're what I want to keep the most safe," he took her hand in his and placed it over his heart, holding it there, the worked up rhythm of it surprising Joss and making her gasp as Tig stared at her with so much unearthly desire. "Please, angel…tell me how to do that."

Joss breathed deeply and felt Tig's words make her tremble a little, then she kissed him again, then again…and again…finally opening her eyes and looking into Tig's once more…their cold, arctic blueness staring back at her, only he was anything but cold…cold was all wrong in any description of Tig…he was hot, in every possible way or temperament, Tig was hot…never more than a moment away from going off like a keg of gunpowder, an unbridled energy surging through him that could never be contained, so much desire, protectiveness and loyalty flowing in his hard-running blood that whatever Tig cared about, he didn't care only a little, he cared with everything that he was…a "demon"…Joss felt her own protective anger give a sudden shudder within her again, but the fuel for that fire no longer stood in front of her, and it quickly smothered and died again. Tig…he loved her, and he'd come so far within that. He didn't want her to suffer alone, or in silence. He wanted to help her, he wanted to keep her safe; he wanted to make her happy. She looked at her man, wishing she knew what to tell him…and she did, but she'd said it enough. "Tig," Joss sighed as she tried to steady the pending tears in her eyes and then placed her hand on his jaw and gently caressed his skin with the tips of her fingers, Tig's luminous blue eyes closing beneath her touch, his head bowing to her, this wild thing that burned so hot, so far from gentle in its nature, but its savageness completely soothed by the softest of her touches. Tig took her hand that he held and pressed it to his mouth, bestowing a slow kiss to it as Joss traced the line of his jaw with her other fingers…to think that there had been a time when Tig hated to be touched. "I love you," Joss whispered to him, beginning to feel that she was the beautiful maiden standing there with the sword in that painting by Edmund Blair Leighton, the bravest of knights in battle kneeling before her as she tapped each of his strong shoulders with her sword, an accolade to declare Tig as not just the prince of SAMCRO, but as a prince of Joss's very own.


	22. Decaf

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 22

It was good to be alone with her, outside in a field of nothing but long, bright, green grasses, green like Joss's eyes. He'd spent two nights with her in Jax's old room and it was beginning to feel like a prison cell to Tig, and he wasn't the one who had to spend so much time there. Joss had to get out, and that's where he'd taken her, out…out in the open. She wore the black dress that he and Opie had stolen the night before, the swaying, swinging black fringe kissing the sharp tips of the tall grass as they walked, the wind fluttering her long, midnight hair, whisp-ing the red ends around like mellow tongues of fire behind her. The weather was good now, but it was looking stormy; Tig glanced away from the everything that Joss was to him at the expanding gray cloud that was extending over the sun now, shading the field a bit. Good, Joss burned far too easily to really be out in the sun like she was, and that neckline was awfully open and deeply cut. Her skin was so delicate and pale; she only had two colors, white and red. He admitted still to having a penchant for Latinas and the café au lait tone of their skin…they'd always catch his eye…maybe more than that…but those caramel beauties didn't hold a candle to Joss…Joss…she was so beautifully ghostly, seeming to float along beside him as they walked, so quiet, but looking so happy to be out…to be free…to be out in a place where weddings, and the shit that went with them, didn't matter. Yeah…that's what Tig had needed to give her…a break.

She'd nearly turned on Gemma the night before; she'd told him all about that with tears in her eyes. Tig didn't know what it was to have something like the spider monkey living inside him, he was messed up in a way that was pretty consistent and always there, granted, sometimes it shined a little brighter than others. But still, he expected as much inappropriateness, weirdness and disturbing stuff out of himself as everyone else did. But Joss wasn't like that, no one "expected" her to break the way she broke, the night of the "mechanic" had stunned everyone, though no one had ever once thought of not accepting her any longer, which Tig would always be grateful for. He understood the spider monkey, and he was still pretty certain that he was the only person who did, even over Joss herself, but his club certainly didn't have to be so obliging. And Joss…she was feeling all over like she was on the verge of destroying the trust that everyone had in her, because she couldn't trust herself. Stahl got it for shooting and threatening Joss's old man and Gemma…well, Joss wouldn't get into exactly what happened there, but Tig knew it was something about him something that passed upsetting Joss, and she'd meant to make Gemma sorry for doing or saying it. Joss didn't want to hurt Gemma…and Tig wasn't sure just what he'd do if she did…but that she'd even felt herself skittering under the control of the spider monkey and trained on Gemma had made Tig realize something had to be done. But what? What was there to do besides what he'd been doing? Trying to help Joss to see where their power not only in terms of what they were to one another was, but also where her own power was…he'd thought it had been working, Joss had seemed to be coming around…and then she tells him she'd nearly tore Gemma up? Fuck…Joss was feeling more and more at the mercy of the monkey…and that monkey was acting a lot like it was protecting something, too. That damn girl loved him way too much…way past what was normal, way past what was due him, and way past what was even good for her. But, what was Tig supposed to do about that?

"Tig," she suddenly said, breaking out of the silence that seemed so wrapped around her. "I know what's wrong with me."

Shit! Tig's baseline was pretty much trying to not think about, or admit, that he was in love…but fuck if there wasn't always something there to remind him how close to Joss he'd gotten. How'd he known that getting her outside would somehow help her figure herself out? Well, because Tig had been there before himself…mostly in jail…time in the yard was always a far cry better than being bricked in, and things were a lot more clear in open spaces, they always had been. His sweet, dark angel was exactly like him…in what was perhaps some of the most unfortunate ways…but at least Tig knew how to take care of her…right? Fuck, no wonder that damn girl had climbed inside of him so efficiently.

He stopped walking, stopping Joss as well with an arm moving across her body, then taking her shoulder and turning her towards him. "So you gonna tell me?" He asked, trying not to sound eager or relieved…but he was…finally, they could identify what this was, and then he could talk to her about it, hold her, lay with her in the grass, let her cry for as long as she needed to, or throw whatever punch she needed to throw…Tig would stand by it all, every last crazy bit of injury, sadness or vexation. Home…he should take her home…but that would mean…damn it…Tig wasn't very fond of being squished into the bathtub with her, but Joss loved it and it was where she seemed the most talkative about shit like this, musta been part of "coming clean" or some shit. Her, laying back against him in the hot water, her head on his shoulder, her back to his chest…which she really loved, it was her very favorite part of him, and Tig would never really understand that, but hey, if she knew what was wrong finally, she could have whatever part of him she wanted.

Of course, taking a bath with her would also mean sitting there…for like an hour, in water that was gradually becoming colder, dodging those disgusting, brown globules of that Nile Spice bath oil Joss loved and also claimed was a more "manly scent"…yeah, right…Tig read the label…chamomile, jasmine, frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh and hibiscus…sandalwood was, well wood, and okay, cool, dudes should smell like wood. Frankincense was…well, it looked like a bunch of little yellowish rocks…cool; Tig didn't mind smelling like rocks. Myrrh was…huh…what the fuck was myrrh? Myrrrrrrrrh…it sounded it coulda been some kinda…ground up mummy or something…and that wasn't too bad a thing…how bad coulda mummy smell, they'd been dead for thousands of years! But chamomile? Jasmine? Hibiscus? Those were all fucking flowers, and no man should smell like any kind of flower! Flowers…shit…that was likely Joss's next wedding headache…flowers…but c'mon, who needed the damn things? Wait…Tig had wandered way far off subject here…and now was not the time…Jesus fucking Christ, it was bath oil, not cows! Cows…cows…no! Cows! No! No! No! Co—No! No! Hey…was he even extra crazy, or had that worked this time? Really? It had? Tig had won that one? Alright!

But what if it was too late? Joss seemed distracted now, looking off in the in direction of the slight hill behind them as though she'd heard something that Tig didn't notice with what he'd been struggling to get control of in his messed up mind that sometimes seemed like a pop-up book full of phobias and philias. Damn it, she'd been about to tell him what was wrong…finally…but now she was sidetracked by whatever it was on the hill…well, in all fairness, Tig had kinda flaked out on her with the bath oils..and then the—"Cows!" Joss suddenly shouted, and pointed at the hill, and before Tig could stop her she was rushing off up towards the small apex, the fringe of the black dress bouncing with each of her strides, and before Tig knew it, she was gone from his view...cows were everywhere around her, big ones, small ones, some black, some black and white, others were brown with white faces…mooing and swarming around him like some…some angry mob hell-bent on retaliation…only every single one of these cows…every last one of them…was wearing a big, poofy, ridiculously white Hostess Sno Ball dress.

"Tig!" He heard Joss's voice again from the middle of the formally attired herd, all of those bovines walking and loping around in wedding dresses, their tails switching around amidst the lace and whatever as they tripped over the skirts and rolled down the hill, coming at him like boulders, seeming to be able to steer towards him…"steer" towards him…shit, even in the face of the weirdest fucking danger, Tig managed to find something funny! "Tig!" Joss called again, but he still couldn't see her…until he opened his eyes. Joss was looking down at him, her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking at him like he maybe wasn't.

What the fucking hell? Tig sat up, looking around, Joss was obviously with him, and she was right there beside him, but there was no cloudy sky, no tall grass, no hill…and no…aw fuck; another God damn cow dream? Really? God fucking damn it! They usually preceded something bad happening…not that Tig really believed in prophetic kinda shit, but he understood how shit got repressed and then found a way to make itself known despite the best efforts of a bashful psyche. Joss's hand was gripping his shoulder a little tighter, and she was looking a little more startled, he had to say something to make her stop worrying…before she spider monkey-ed something. "Just a crazy dream, little girl," he told her, rubbing his eyes now and taking note of the daylight…it was about time for him to be crawling out of that damn window again…shit, this had to stop…really…what was next, carving their initials onto a table in the cafeteria after third period? "I'm fine," he told her and threw the covers back and put his feet on the floor. "But thanks for waking me up."

Joss nodded as Tig stood, and he strained to hear any little whimper or sniffle as he reached for his clothes…she always cried when he left her…always. "What were you dreaming about?" She asked, but it didn't sound like she was tearing up…yet.

Yeah, like Tig was going to tell her he was dreaming about being attacked by cows wearing wedding dresses! "I don't know," he said pulling on jeans and zipping them up. "I'll tell you later when I remember. Go back to sleep, baby."

But Joss wasn't satisfied with that, moved closer to the edge of the bed behind him. "But you're okay? Really?" She asked like it was going to bother her all day that he wasn't. "Please say you will be, because you're all I've got in my world right now, and there's only you for me, and I need to know you're okay!" Her words had sounded more urgent the longer she talked…yeah…she was definitely way too into her old man right now…even if she wasn't crying like usual. She'd always loved him and had always wanted to be with him, hell, that was why she never stayed in the safe places Tig put her, she was always looking for him the moment he left her, but she'd never ever been the susceptible, weepy, worried mess she was all of a sudden. She loved him, and that was good, he never wanted her to stop, but she was losing herself in that love. Her wanting to be close to him had been one thing, Tig wasn't thrilled with satisfying that need in the beginning, unless it meant fucking her, but he'd gotten used to wrapping Joss in his arms every night. Besides, her cuddling requirements, while nauseating, weren't as bad as her hair-trigger, protective viciousness, or this new obsessive/compulsive worrying that he could tell was developing. Man…the cow dream was right…something bad was going to happen…Tig could feel it…but what was it? And how did he stop it?

Chapter 22; Part 2

"Hey, why the hell isn't there coffee?" Happy was standing in the office of the garage, Tig overhearing the complaint as he passed by, trying to shrug off his own now obsessive worrying about Joss worrying about him, and hearing that there was no coffee was really a tragedy. He stopped by the office doorway…there just had to be coffee…Gemma always made coffee first thing when she got to work.

"Sorry," came Chucky's eagerly helpful, but apologetic voice, "I just can't handle the little scoop," he explained, holding up his solitary finger on each hand to Happy.

Happy grunted, but Tig quickly stepped into the office. "I got this, it's okay." He said, and gave Chucky a nod; maybe the guy was annoying, but he was just looking for a place to be…and weren't they all? "Won't be the best," Tig admitted to Hap as he flipped the top of the coffee maker open then handed Hap the pot to go and fill with water from the big, plastic bottle behind them. "Where's Gemma? She coming in late this morning?" He asked.

"Don't know," Happy replied turning to the water cooler. "I got here later than usual thanks to Lauren thinkin' she was in labor twice last night." He sighed. "Now I know not to believe her until someone says, 'I see the head!'"

Tig grimaced a bit, hoping that there wasn't going to be some new need for a baby pep-talk…he just couldn't this morning…Joss and the wedding and the spider monkey and the cows were all wearing him down. Luckily though, Chucky came through for him in some small way yet again, preventing Happy from going further with his story of prenatal hell.

"Clay called this morning and asked if I'd mind keeping shop," he said looking up at Tig who was opening the coffee can and hoping he remembered how man scoops were supposed to go in…it was printed on the can, and yet it was still such a fucking mystery. "He said that Gemma isn't feeling well and was staying home."

"Oh man," Happy groaned as Tig just stood there petrified with his initial thoughts. "Gemma's okay; nothing serious, right?" He asked of Chucky, who was shaking his head.

"Yeah, I think." Said Chucky, nodding and checking the level of water in the cooler when Happy stopped filling the coffee pot…picking up full bottles of water to refresh the old, empty one was something that Chucky could handle with only two index fingers, and he always tried to do whatever he could do for SAMCRO, and Tig in particular; Chucky…annoying little ex-wang pulling shithead, but a good guy nonetheless. "I kinda got the impression that Gemma's taking a 'mental health day.'"

Shit! Tig dropped the little scoop right into the filter he'd been spooning the coffee into…if Gemma was home with Joss, that wasn't likely to promote mental "health" for either one of them! Oh hell…he'd done his best to get Joss squared before he'd left, kissed her for nearly ten minutes until she'd started to smile…she was almost alright…but not really. In fact, she was crying again as he left the window…he'd told her to go back to sleep, and he was praying that she had, and that Gemma hadn't woken Joss, or the spider monkey, up! "Where's Clay?" Tig asked suddenly, stopping mid scoop and looking at both Happy and Chucky.

"Delivery this morning," said Chucky and pointed towards the tire bay…pointing…Chucky was very good at doing that. "He's handling the re-stock."

Tig nodded, about to rush out of the office and into the tire bay, Gemma and Joss couldn't be around one another right now…that just felt…volatile! Tig loved Gemma, and he of course loved Joss…loved her so much that some of her current crazy was likely on him too, and he was trying not to take sides…but whatever, he had to get Joss out of that house! Out…get her out…yeah…that was one part of his stupid, fucking cow dream that had been spot on, Joss needed to get out, she had to have something else "in her world" right now, and the garage, the customers, his brothers, the different sights and sounds, and meeting someone new, Chucky, was exactly what might help Joss out! Besides…she was going to be Tig's queen one day…and how in hell was she supposed to do that if she were kept cut off and disconnected from all of this? Yeah, Joss needed out…to keep the spider monkey in!


	23. Wardrobe Malfunction

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 23

Tig didn't want to go in there. He could hear everything he needed to know from where he stood at Gemma's kitchen door, and while it wasn't the worst of his fears, it wasn't doing much for his well being either. He couldn't really hear what Joss or Gemma were saying, which was kind of nice, because that way, he could always pretend they were just two teenage girls going nuts over meeting their favorite rockstar…there was certainly a lot of screaming going on in the living room…but there was only one teenage girl…and no rockstar. Shit…he'd told Clay what he was afraid of, told Clay all about how Joss had been acting, and Clay had agreed, Tig should go get her…and so that's what he had to do…go get her. Besides, it would be nice to have her back, at their house, in their bed…preferably without Gemma's skin and hair under Joss's nails. Okay, ignore the screaming…he'd busted into rooms where he knew guns would be pointing at him, he could handle this…he hoped.

Tig opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, undetected, because there was far too much action in the living room for anything else to distract Joss or Gemma. Joss was standing on the hassock in her wedding dress…wow, that had changed, it was much smaller than the last one Tig had seen her in, but it was still too Fairy Godmother-ish for Joss or him…no wonder Joss was so unhappy…and no wonder she was screaming, "I don't care! It's a piece of shit and I didn't even want this damn dress!" at Gemma, who was standing there with a veil in her hands, but whipping it around as she retaliated.

"Oh that's right, because you don't want to do anything in any kind of way that isn't your own idea!" Gemma shouted. "No, I'm wrong, you'd do it if it was Tig's idea too, no questions asked, but that's all you give a damn about, Joss!"

"And what's wrong with that?" Joss railed back, standing there on the hassock, dressed like an angel…a literal angel, like from a Christmas Pageant, though her angry features vastly betrayed that portrayal. "It takes a special kind of endowment and energy to trust someone the way I trust Tig, and I will not apologize for having it!" she paused, took in one of those deep deep breaths that hissed on the way out and leveled a rather snippy stare at Gemma that had Tig moving forward now…he had to stop this…the spider monkey was jumping up and down and waving it's long, little hairy arms above its head, ready to pounce, but it was going to bounce right off of the snapping jaws of a mama alligator…mama alligator? Whatever, Joss was about to say something really stupid that she only thought she meant…oh c'mon Joss…don't go there…but she scowled at Gemma and leaned over the queen from the hassock. "But I don't expect you to know what it takes to do that! If you did, you'd have pride enough in your man to wear your fucking pat—"

"Joss!" Tig's roar silenced both women, stunned them really; neither one knew he was there after all, but Tig wasn't thinking about how he'd startled them. He looked up at Joss with steely eyes as he approached her. "That'll be about it!" He yelled at her, drawing his finger across his neck in a quick, jerky motion, and Joss went silent like he'd told her to…good, the monkey wasn't as close to the surface as he'd feared if she was still responding that quickly to his commands. With one arm Tig reach up and grabbed Joss around the waist, pulled her against him and pivoted her off of the hassock, but didn't ever let her feet touch the carpet, just hauled her along like that under one arm. "Just keep your mouth closed, and this gets better, you gettin' me?"

Gemma started to laugh smugly, which wasn't helping anything, Joss, while quiet, was twisting to look back at her and sneer…but she didn't talk, didn't make a sound as Tig headed for Jax's old room with her so Joss could change her clothes. "That's it," Gemma said leaning around the living room doorway as Joss and Tig disappeared around the corner into the hallway. "Tig says 'jump,' you ask, 'off of what?'" Gemma laughed again and then sighed. "You just keep on turning Tig into a tyrant, Joss…yeah, the club's got a great future ahead of it with him…"

Chapter 23; Part 2

"You do realize that she hates both of us now?" Joss said to Tig as she climbed onto the back of his bike, so happy to be there, riding with him again, that she couldn't help smiling even though she should have really been crying her eyes out. She'd said some awful things to Gemma…things that she was already feeling a little bit sorry about saying now that she was out of the house…but wait, Gemma had called Tig a "demon" and a "tyrant!" Fuck her! No…Joss didn't mean that…or did she? Gemma was fuming, and for more reasons than how Joss was being scooped up and taken away from all the wedding shit that Gemma had planned for the day. It was Thursday, the wedding was Saturday, there was a lot to be done…and the biggest, most disastrous of things had happened...and it in itself made Joss happy, even if she had no explanation for it. The Swan Lake dress, the one that had fit in the store, the one that had fit after some minor tailoring…the same doofy dress that had fit a mere two weeks ago, was all of a sudden too small!

Tig glanced back at Joss's grin, "Joss, I can't deal with that part of this right now. I just want to get you where I know you're able to deal with shit better than you have been. I know what your control looks like just before you lose it, and you're cuttin' the edge of it, little girl." He reached forward and turned the ignition, having to wait a moment before his voice could be heard again. "You're with me today and tonight, you're mine, you listen to me, and you don't worry anymore about Gemma, or any of the shit she said."

"Really?" this was a terrible feeling of glee to have…but oh God, Tig was keeping her! Still, being happy about this made Joss feel like a gremlin that was so thrilled with the destruction it somehow caused…but she couldn't help being elated…she was free to be Tig's again, and that's all she'd been wanting since the day she met him! Nothing could stand in the way of that, and when something did try to, well…hmm…shit! Tig hadn't sprang her from Gemma's house because he wanted her back…well, he did, but mostly, Tig was worried that Joss was going to lose it and take Gemma out! But…well…Joss was worried about that too…and now it wasn't a problem, thanks to Tig; she just wished she could care a little bit more than she did about how Gemma was feeling right now…Joss should be a lot more sorry than she actually felt…that was for sure. Gemma was being a pain in the ass, and Joss hated every wedding thing Gemma came up with…but Gemma was dealing with her own…demons…yeah…that's what they were too, demons. Damn it…Joss did love Gemma, she always would…and this way, she felt secure in knowing that the beast couldn't pop up and devour Gemma…but, why didn't Joss feel a bit worse about—Ow! Oh God! Her right side erupted in a sudden splitting kind of pain that blanked her mind of every thought, torture blaring throughout her torso like she'd fallen into the pneumatic hammer at the garage. No…please stop…she struggled to clutch Tig's waist, praying that he wasn't about to pull away, because if he did, Joss wasn't sure she'd be able to hang on with an ache like this exploding through her. Shit…what was happening? Was she imagining this? If so, why couldn't she stop?

"Joss?" Tig looked back at her again. "You okay? You just went limp." He said, but was looking at her more like he was about to be frustrated with her if she started with her usual ambivalence and told him that maybe she should stay with Gemma, because Gemma would be sad and blah blah blah…okay, good, if her man hadn't linked any of her sudden limpness to the pain she'd been experiencing in her side, then Joss wasn't about to advertise it! Whatever this damn thing was that was trying its best to bring her to her knees, it was going to have wait until tomorrow morning…she finally had a night with Tig, at their house, like things had been before the wedding bomb had gone off. Nothing was taking that away from her, and nothing was going to make her go to that hospital, and have to see Tara…who Joss always thought would be her maid of honor, but who wouldn't even be coming to Joss's shitty wedding.

The wedding…yeah, it was horrible and Joss should have been ashamed, but she had to get through this pain and right herself again, and thinking of all the destruction bearing down on Gemma's wedding was exactly the thing she needed to lift her back up above the agony! Come on, things were looking up in all kinds of ways! She'd spend the day at the garage, with so many of her "big brothers" whom she hadn't seen in almost two weeks: Bobby, Juice, Happy, Chibs, Sack…even Opie! It would be a good day! Yeah, it would be…the wedding, that fucking froo froo, fairy princess load of shit…the wedding was crumbling! There were only two days to go, there was easily a week's worth of stuff to be done and Tig had stolen her away from it all, by order of Clay…and the stupid, silly, ballerina dress all of a sudden didn't fit!


	24. Cold Feet

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 24

"Hey," Clay was the first one to greet she and Tig at the garage as Tig parked the bike and killed the engine, but Joss could tell that Clay wasn't all together pleased with her as he stood there wiping grease off of the screwdriver he held. "I thought you and me had a deal?" He asked her, his voice heavy and a little dark, but his blue eyes just wouldn't melt into that viciousness. "You tell me when things are building up on you, and I stop Gemma from stacking the bricks!"

Joss sighed sorrowfully, she realized that she hadn't exactly been holding up her end of that bargain…she'd tried to, but things with Gemma just seemed to be coming out of nowhere lately…what was she supposed to do when she'd had enough, but Clay wasn't around to run to? She couldn't say that to Clay of course, she was the princess to Tig's prince, at some point, she was going to have to be able to handle things herself and not always run to someone else with them…unless there was some specific order from Tig concerning whatever came down the path, of course. She was just practicing, right? No…even Joss knew that was a copout…she hadn't gone to Clay because she'd been afraid of how much friction was between her and Gemma, and what that friction was making her start to think and feel about Gemma as well. It wasn't something she could tell Clay…particularly not when she was living under his roof. This whole fucking mess was a terrible thing, and Joss wanted out of it all…every last little bit…but she'd dug herself a hole with Gemma this morning…a big one. Damn it…she didn't like being at war with Gemma, and she really didn't like disappointing Clay…she had his last name now and everything…and what had she done? Nearly attacked his old lady! Joss was still searching for how to explain herself and she looked up towards the only source of strength she'd had lately, but Tig was immediately shaking his head at her.

"No, don't look at me," he said, his tone almost insulted that she had. "This is between you and Clay."

Tig…was she making him into a tyrant? "I know," Joss answered morosely, her throat getting tight. She didn't want to look at Clay again, there was nothing that she could tell him, no excuse…literally…and really, she had no idea why things were ambushing her the way they had been…one moment she was hating the wedding and going to Clay about it, and the next, she was out and out hating Gemma, and about to handle that herself…or at least the beast was. It was scary…as scary as the pain in her right side that had calmed immensely, but was still ringing her nerve endings into awareness of it. Damn…maybe this pain wasn't from missing Tig? Maybe it was guilt? "I'm sorry, Clay." Joss finally looked up at him and said. "I've really been a mess lately, I don't know what's wrong with me," and she didn't, that was the best and only truth Joss had…she'd been trying for weeks to figure out what it was that was making her so…desperate to be near Tig, and what it was that was making her so unable to just swallow Gemma's orders and carry them out. For weeks now, she'd felt that there was something buried inside her that was trying to get out, like she'd been somehow invaded by something, but it took Tig bringing it up to make her finally come to understand this tiny little tip of what she'd been struggling with, but what any of the rest of it was about was not quickly revealing itself.

Jesus, she just wanted to marry Tig and be close to him…how had something so simple and basic turned into this? For some reason, Joss felt like that was the answer, marry Tig, know that he was her husband, that they were together, that they always would be…always would be…oh God…Tig was right, she was afraid he'd leave her! Shit! Was that why she felt such an undeniable urge to be close to Tig? But why would she think he'd leave her? He loved her, that was evident, she required no further proof of that; Joss knew exactly what she and Tig were, it had played out in such passionate and strange vignettes over the last few nights…the dedication of a knight to his lady, the eternity of turning to dust together…Jesus…Tig wasn't leaving her! She knew that, and apparently she didn't. But why? She trusted him, she'd never felt that falter, so why the notion that he'd leave her? Hell…Gemma had called him a "demon" and a "tyrant," but Joss having that pent up insecurity about him was far more injurious than either of Gemma's words. Tig didn't deserve to be doubted like that…he didn't! Joss closed her eyes to stop the tears from forming, but her lip quivered just enough to be seen. "I just keep feeling like there's something inside me that shouldn't be there," she said and hoped she was making at least some bit of sense to one of the two men that surrounded her…the two men that meant so much to her. "Whatever it is that's in here…it's like it's making thoughts that I don't even understand having appear from…from places that I can't even explain." She looked up first at Tig, then Clay, both of them were looking at her like two lifeguards scouting the ocean for a swimmer caught in a riptide, "I gotta get rid of this 'thing,'" she told them, wishing either of them could help her, but she knew they couldn't. "Because trying to run away from it is making me into a terrible person."

Clay was nodding sympathetically, about to say something, but it was Tig who threw his leg over the dyna and turned to her first, looking at her with some kind of sorry relief in his ice blue eyes. "That's a lot more than you've been able to tell me about this since you started feeling it," he said and put his hand on her shoulder, a look in his clear, blue eyes that made Joss realize something major was about to happen, a call only Tig could make. "Listen," he told her, catching her under the chin and tilting her face up to his, holding her there as if pouring his words into her visage. "You don't take this in any kinda way that would make you cry when I say it, because I'm not pulling anything back from you that I've already promised you, okay?" He said sternly, waiting until his warning like advisement was received with a nod. "You don't need this wedding right now, Joss. You're finally closing in on this shit that you've been dealing with for weeks now. Figure it out all the way, and then we'll worry about the 'I do's.'"

No! She was struggling to put down the panic that rose like some kind of bitter acid within her…her right side throbbing away, but Joss couldn't show any of that, none of it…Tig had told her not to get upset…and so she wouldn't, even if she was…put off getting married? No! Joss needed this marriage to happen! Maybe that need came from the shameful place that feared he'd leave her, but she just did! "Tig," she said, wishing like hell he'd let go of her chin…tears were going to spill from the corners of her eyes if he didn't. "That's not what I want." She told him in a clenched whisper. "You're right, I don't need the wedding right now," she blinked a few times and then locked eyes with him, unable to help the piteous begging in her stare. "But I do need to marry you."

Author's Note: Just wanted to apologize for the stingy chapters lately. Some of you may know that I'm dealing with a rather nasty relapse of Rhabdomyolysis currently, which prevents me from being able to give my writing the usual efforts I give it. Hopefully though, everything will settle in a few more days and my muscles will go back to their almost normal selves, and I can once again give all of my wonderful readers the complete chapters you deserve! Thank you all for you support and readership!


	25. Bachelor Party

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 25

"You sure that's a good idea over there?" Bobby was the first to question Tig's logic, pointing over towards the other beat up picnic table next to where Tig and his brothers sat, picking at sandwiches and burgers. Bobby's observation had halted a great deal of planning with so many things falling into place, Clay was good to provide cover, and or a distraction, Chibs was securing lighting, Juice would act as look-out, Happy…well, Happy would be there if he could be, what with Slinky-Slinky-bitch about to pop, Opie would…fuck, Opie would be there…and Bobby, he'd be making shit happen…if he stopped worrying about Joss and Chucky at the other weather beaten table, anyway. Joss and Chucky were happily eating the nachos they'd made from the few bags of corn chips out of the vending machine and the salsa and slices of cheese they'd raided from the fridge in the clubhouse, melting the cheese on the chips in the office microwave. Was that little tea party over at that table a good idea? Well…shit…Tig wanted to say "no," but the truth was Joss looked more like Joss, sitting at that table with Chucky, than he'd seen her looking since before Gemma had…well…Tig wasn't thinking about that anymore. It wasn't going to matter soon anyway.

"Chucky makes her laugh," Tig answered as he watched the pair of substitute garage managers sharing their lunch and discussing Joss's first ever days working at Teller-Morrow Automotive, and her misinterpretations of what "tranny lube" was. Tranny lube…sounded…humane…huh? What the fuck? That was Chewbadooba's fault…all the fucking transvestite cracks that night they stole Joss's wedding dress! Fuck Chewbadooba! Anyway, Chucky was somehow good for Joss. In fact, the whole garage had been good for Joss, just like Tig had expected it would be. She'd perked up within an hour of being here, spoke no more of Gemma, didn't seem to be worried about the fight she'd been in the midst of with her, or how to fix it, and Joss mentioned nothing about the wedding, despite how close it was coming to the day. She'd took about an hour to go on some "meet and greet" tour with all his brothers before starting work officially, giving out hugs and collecting kisses on the cheek, but that was only slightly annoying…as was her continuing neediness…Tig couldn't walk into the office and get back out again without Joss hanging on some part of him. Okay, so that wasn't as bad as Tig made it out to be…or wanted it to be…Jesus fucking Christ, he just wanted to take her home, get her in bed and wrap her up in his arms…that damn girl…she made him want the most embarrassing shit! He looked over at Joss again, studied the smile on her face, watched her long, midnight hair fall over her shoulder, the crimson tendrils of it kissing the swell of her magnificent rack as those emerald eyes of Nefertiti squinted against the sunlight; long, elegant, white fingers tipped with black nails wiping away a smudge of salsa from the fairness of her face…Tig was going to marry her. He looked back at Bobby, Joss was fine with Chucky; she was only a few feet away, Tig could see and hear nearly all of what went on at the other table, and there were other matters to be discussed at the table he and his brothers gathered around. "Let's get back to tonight."

But Bobby only shook his head and rolled his eyes as he looked away from Joss and Chucky. "That's a truly beautiful girl," he said to Tig, cocking his head towards Joss. "What are you gonna do if 'Tarzan' over there 'gets back to' swingin' on his 'vine?'"

"Shit Bobby, Chucky's only got two fingers!" Replied Tig with unhidden annoyance, but then he sighed, knowing what he was up against. Joss fucking loved Bobby, and Bobby fucking loved Joss, and Bobby was just concerned for the respect the girl was going to be getting from her new, "jerky" friend. Tig wanted to be concerned about that too, he wanted to feel angry and jealous at hearing and seeing Joss laughing and talking with another man, but the ugly fucking truth was that Tig was more grateful that something had restored his sweet, dark, angle to herself than he was suspicious of anything. Besides…it was Chucky…what the hell was Chucky going to do? Still, Joss was Tig's, and it was pissing him off that anyone thought Tig would put what was his in some sort of compromising atmosphere. "Would you quit bustin' my balls about this?" He asked looking at Bobby, but quickly catching sight of Opie sitting beside him and focusing on Ope now. "I'd expect that shit outta him, but not you." Tig said, nodding towards Opie, who looked up innocently then, a bit annoyed himself.

"Hey bro, I haven't said a word!" Opie said defensively, but then looked over towards Joss and Chucky, like maybe he should.

"And I thank you for that!" Tig threw out curtly, successfully stopping big, ol' Chewbadooba in his tracks…yeah…but…fuck! He'd just said "thank you" to Opie! God fucking damn it! Shit…the planning at the table had been going so swimmingly until Bobby had to go and notice Joss with Chucky…Chucky…like he was anything to worry about. He had complete respect for Tig's old lady; that was obvious. Twice today Chucky had commented to Tig, "She's such a nice girl," and later, "I'm really surprised by what a nice girl she is." Well, yeah…what the hell had Chucky been expecting Tig to be marrying? Some crazy ass bitch on death row for killing her ex-lover's family and boiling their pet rabbit alive? Joss would never do that…in fact, if she even knew that Tig mentioned boiling a rabbit alive, she'd be looking at him all sad and upset over a fucking fictitious rabbit! Whatever, if Chucky didn't respect Joss, he'd have complimented her tits, or her ass or some other, less sexualized, physical feature, but no, Chucky had seen through all of that shit, straight through to the "nice girl" that Joss was.

"So look," Opie cleared his throat a bit and glanced at everyone at the table, getting everyone back on track again…really fucking good of him to do that…but then, he was probably acting out of his immeasurable and disgusting affection for Joss and what made her happy, even if it was Chucky. "The doors are likely chained shut, so we better make sure we've got bolt cutters to get inside," he looked down the table towards Tig. "That is if you were planning on going inside."

Tig nodded. "Yeah, that's cool," he said, but then felt as though he may be leaving his brethren with a wrong impression of himself. "But only cuz the place has been abandoned for like twenty-five years and is pretty creepy now."

"Hey man, I hear that place is haunted too!" Juice's innocent enthusiasm once again sounded so out of place amongst the men that surrounded him and all eyes fell upon him as head's began to shake. "What?" Juice asked, not understanding how ridiculous he sounded…but then, that so often was Juice. "Doesn't it look haunted to you all?"

"Haunted or not," Clay sighed and looked towards Tig himself. "You sure you want to do this? Could cause some unheard of chaos," he warned, then sighed once more a bit reluctantly, and Tig couldn't really blame him…this was risky. "Not that I don't think it's an idea whose time has finally come."

Tig nodded, as solidly in favor of this as he'd ever been. "Has to happen like this, Clay," He looked over towards Joss, she was so much calmer and carefree, so happy to be free from the bindings of poofy, white dresses and seating charts, and the pressures of having to be Gemma's perfect kid. Tig hadn't even seen Joss clutch at her right side in the last few hours either. Finally that girl was smiling again…and it wasn't taking clinging to her old man to produce it. However things went tonight, Tig wouldn't do a damn thing to jeopardize the peace of mind that Joss had so recently won back. He turned to his brothers again. "Leave Joss out of this," he instructed, half commandingly and half begging. "She finds out, she'll worry herself sick; little girl's been through enough, I'm not letting that happen."

Author's Note: Thank you all for your patience and support! Sorry for the delay in posting, but it appears that my latest relapse of Rhabdomyolysis has finally let up enough to allow me to do some typing again! I'm not sure how often I'll be updating, but I am trying! Sorry again for the short chapter, but it's just good to have something to post once more! Thanks again so very much for all your concern, well wishes, kind words and most of all, for your readership and your reviews!


	26. Evermore

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 26

"What's 'Evermore?'" Joss's question startled Tig, he of course could hear every word that she and Chucky shared over there at their little nacho table, but it for some reason hadn't quite dawned on Tig that she could hear what he and the guys talked about too, shit! And now he didn't know what to tell her, and it was clear that his brothers were clamoring for an answer themselves. Tig had just told them not to make Joss aware of what was being schemed between them, and it was good to see that they all respected his orders…yeah, the club was going to be his someday!

When no answer was forthcoming from the table of Tig and his brethren, Joss turned back to Chucky. "Do you know?" She asked, and Tig felt himself feel a little bit proud and happy that he'd introduced her to someone she felt so strongly would help her, but also couldn't help that bit of jealous cringe…Joss was Tig's through and through, dyed in the wool and dissolved in the blood; she needed help, her old man should be the first one she turned to…of course, she sorta had…but he'd sat there like a fucking mute. Shit…it was for her own good though!

Chucky sat thinking, tapping his chin with one of his remaining fingers. "Evermore?" He said, repeating it quietly a few times, then to Tig's disdain, looked alertly at Joss with a smile of happy servitude. "Hey! Yeah, it's that old—"

Tig's glare stopped Chucky cold…yeah…the deviant, two fingered, little freak might have been all about skipping around 'the rosy' with Joss and tracing those stupid Thanksgiving Turkey drawings that kids made in school with their hands and laughing at how stressed out and bedraggled his looked with only one fucking feather, but Chucky still took his orders from Tig…smart one feathered, stressed out turkey, little freak! Tig hadn't figured that Chucky'd know about Evermore…Chucky was Jewish for fuck-sake…why'd he care about it? Okay, so yeah…they had shot that zombie movie there a few years ago…but still, it wasn't a Jewish place…but then, Bobby knew about Evermore…hmm…Bobby…Chucky…they both fucking loved Joss…what the hell was she? The Pied Piper of Jews? Chucky was still thinking, and Tig wasn't liking the look that was coming over his face, "Hey man," he said, grinning over at Tig. "You need anything, you just ask!" he smiled, trying to hide it from Joss, but failing, she could see and hear everything…God fucking damn it! "I'd love to be there!" Chucky sighed, and then winked.

Joss's brow furrowed and she looked back at Tig, cocking her head as her eyes shifted back and forth between Chucky and her old man. "Tig," she said as if she hadn't already asked this question and furthermore, didn't really want to. That look of foreboding she got when she just knew she wasn't going to like the answer to something was shining in her pretty, green eyes. "Is Evermore some kind of…old stomping grounds of yours? Like a…funeral home…or something?"

Holy fuck! Now she had a completely unnecessary image in her head, and so did everyone else! Well…shit…that was his fault too, really. "No!" Tig barked, but it was too late, there was already a mix of groaning and laughing around him at the table…and yeah…that was pretty much his fault too.

"Shit," Hap sighed, still laughing as he clapped Tig on the shoulder, but then shot a brief glance at Joss. "Don't worry," he told her and then looked back at Tig. "We've all but broke him of that 'stoppin' in for a cold one' habit." He laughed, and then so did everyone.

"Believe me," Clay said, looking at Joss and shaking his head. "That's not something we'd all be turning out to see," he swore and then couldn't help the shiver that overcame him…making some of the guys laugh and some just groan a little more…but sorta made Tig feel…pretty fucking awesome!

Joss sighed, looking relieved, but still perplexed and now a little bit frustrated as well. "So then what's the big secret with Evermore?" She said, and looked at Tig again, smiling just a little bit in a way that he didn't understand, but then Tig realized, he was smiling a little himself…always so happy to be chilling someone to the bone, and Joss knew that…she knew so much about him…and none of it scared her. Those pretty, green eyes fell solely upon her old man. "What's Evermore?"

"You know, that poem," Juice suddenly said, answering for the group and immediately earning a cockeyed look from everyone at both the picnic tables. Juice sighed and glanced at everyone who was eyeing him. "No one here has ever read 'The Tell Tale Heart?'" He asked, and Chibs, Bobby and Clay immediately groaned as Joss giggled across from Chucky, who was also laughing like some little…creepy, little, icky, two fingered, crony of hers…not that Chucky wasn't a good guy…even if he was annoying.

"Tha was 'The Raven,'" Chibs corrected Juice, "And it was "Nehverrmorre!'"

"Oh yeah," Juice grimaced then looked down the table at Tig who shook his head at what an obvious attempt to cover things up that had been and certainly was now. Not only had Juice botched the poem, but he'd also expected Joss to believe that they were all sitting around discussing a poem? Really? "Sorry bro, guess I don't know my Poe too well." Juice said with a shrug of his shoulders that helped nothing about this situation. This sorta was Hob-bitch's fault…Hob-bitch…English major…she read all the time, and Juice probably attempted that himself to impress her…or maybe Hob-bitch usually tied Juice to a chair and stuck him in the corner with a book…not that Hob-bitch was sadistic like that, but it just sounded like the kinda stupid shit that happened to Juice…like when the club had to pull him out of that "Dungeons and Dragons" tournament to save face…

"Anyone wanna try telling her it's a mountain next?" Bobby jibed, still shaking his head at Juice like he was so ashamed to be associated with him…which wasn't really right…Juice was…well…Juice was a brother, damn it! And that's all that mattered…yeah, this club was going to be Tig's one day.

"Nevermore…" Joss half sighed as if remembering something fondly, and Tig wasn't sure what the fuck anyone was talking about anymore, but one thing was for certain, Joss wasn't satisfied with the…whatever that was she'd received in answer about Evermore, and she was about to ask again about it, but she stopped suddenly, gasped and started laughing like something had just really struck her funny. "Oh my God!" She clapped her hand over her mouth a moment and had to settle herself and the giggling before she could continue, but she was looking at Tig in a way that soon had everyone looking at him…shit…and then she stood up from her table and came over to stand in front of Tig, still trying not to laugh as she cupped her hand over his chin, covering his goatee, suddenly shrieking with laughter. Everyone was looking on with creased brows and Tig had enough, was about to pull away, when Joss smiled sweetly down at him. "I love you," she said as if trying to make whatever it was up to him.

"Uh-huh, what are you doin'?" Tig grunted in reply and grabbed the forearm of the hand that still hid his goatee, wanting to yank free of her touch, but at the same time, he was as curious as everyone else at the table was…what the fuck was she doing?

"Tig," Joss's smile spread even further, "Oh God, this is just so…perfect!" she giggled again as she looked at him with some odd new liking sparkling in those lucid green eyes. "I just realized you look like Edgar Allan Poe!"

What? God damn…the girl was losing it, she really really was…okay, yeah, she'd had some undeniable need to be close to her old man and Gemma had succeeded in making that difficult, but had her mind been sacrificed in that struggle? Edgar Allan Poe…whatever, Joss! But, shit…fuck…there had been a sudden silence around Tig at both tables that was now dissolving into some amazed kind of laughter.

"Holy shit!" naturally it was Chucky who spoke first, pointing one of his only two fingers at Tig. "I never noticed that before!" He laughed, and then so did everyone else, but worst of all was Opie's chuckling.

"Yeah," Happy was chuckling beside Tig and elbowed him. "Imagine the shit you could write, bro! Beatings, maulings…funeral homes…you'd blow Poe away!"

"Didn't he have syphilis?" Opie asked smugly and Tig felt his Chewbadooba eyes on him even before Tig jerked around and snarled, but Opie only leaned away a touch, then added, "and was married to his cousin?"

"Shut up!" Tig growled at Ope, just as Clay shot a silencing glance in Opie's direction, and when Tig looked back at Joss, she was even scowling over at Opie a little herself, Chucky taking notice of her sharp expression as well.

Chucky stood, looking over towards Ope, fingers raised. "You want me to poke his eyes out?" He asked, wiggling the only fingers he had, and then suddenly realizing what kind of a threat he'd made and to whom…quickly becoming reticent and sinking back onto the bench as Joss snickered a bit and shook her head.

"No," she said and patted Chucky's arm. "But, thanks! I appreciate it!" She smiled, but also shot some weird, "touché" kind of glance at Ope, who nodded back, but once again she reminded Ope that she didn't appreciate what he'd said with what remained of her initial scowl...Joss…her loyalty would always be to her old man…made Tig's heart beat with a fury…but she'd given Ope the fuel though! "Thank you!" Tig said facetiously at her, and pulled her hand away from his chin but kept hold of it. Edgar shithole Allan fucking Poe…fantastic!

"Tig!" She complained, held firmly in his grasp, but laughing a bit even now…oh but those beautiful, emerald eyes weren't laughing…Tig knew that look…but where the fuck had it come from? She was all thinking about and…funeral homes a second ago! "I meant it in a good way!" Joss smiled, and stared down at him endearingly, resting her other hand on his shoulder and leaning towards him like she wanted to be closer to him than she was, unembarrassed by how her breasts rose and fell so close to his face as her hand crept from his shoulder to the back of his neck, suggesting much and offering all. "Read 'Annabelle Lee' sometime soon…you'll see!" She promised; her voice a bit husky and lovely, peridot eyes darkening with her dilating pupils…shit…that must have been some book…or whatever…did Poe write books? Whatever, it fuckin' turned Joss on...Tig felt himself flinch to an alertness that went far beyond shrouding Evermore from Joss's knowledge. This had seemed so sudden on Joss's part, but it was also very explainable. She'd missed him, despite all Tig's efforts to be with her, it just wasn't enough, and she wanted her old man…now…and he was so there for her! "Poe was the Master of Horror," Joss smiled sweetly, as sweetly as any dark, little, perfect angel could, and Tig felt everything powerful and wanton harden within him, but Joss still wasn't done. She stepped closer; straddling the bench Tig sat on just enough…God fucking damn it! She was practically spreading her legs standing up! She smiled even broader, "If 'Master of Horror' isn't you, then who is it?"


	27. Feeling It

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 27

This was wrong on her part…wrong because Joss did realize it was coming from that horrible part of her that was afraid Tig was going to leave her and never ever come back…which she knew wouldn't happen…but still couldn't help feeling. Whatever, the yearning to have him close, as close as he could be, was far greater than any other rationale. Her need of him had snuck up on her this time, one moment asking about…whatever it was…and then damn near jumping on top of him in front of everyone. What was that; some weird second bout of puberty? Tig really should be getting back to work, but Joss didn't want Tig to leave her, and this was the best way to get him to stay. He hadn't stopped her after all, even though he could have…he'd fucked her already, good and hard, hard enough to make that annoyance in her right side begin to dig it's imaginary heels into her once more, but Joss was ignoring it…it wasn't happening…she just had to keep Tig with her, and the pain would go away, she knew it would…it had to.

Her index finger just barely touched her thumb as she held them in a tight ring around the base of her man's cock, holding it steady and trapping blood into it enough to keep him stiff when his taxed and sated body would have naturally softened and relaxed. He was still wet from the slickness of her own sheath and the remnants of his cum, but it hadn't mattered to her; if anything, that taste of "them" was exactly what Joss needed, and she sucked ravenously at it. When Tig was inside of her, there was no fight with Gemma, or dreaded wedding day…there was only Tig and what he made her feel. She wanted him inside her again, making her his and using her to his liking, warding off all other evils. Her hands and her mouth wouldn't let him go soft; red lips sliding slowly up and then down his thick, long shaft, her tongue broad and flat against the underside of his cockhead until Tig gave a little growl of wanting more. They had plenty of time…no one was in the clubhouse but them, the dorm and the building itself was theirs, and Joss wanted to be with him, at least one more time…it didn't matter to her if neither of them came, she just wanted Tig's big dick inside her again…being close to her man was everything!

Tig groaned as if he was fighting this but desiring it all at the same time, his strong hand now cupping the back of her head and tangling tightly in the long, silky blackness of her hair as Joss leaned over him. "Whattya doin' to me, little girl?" He moaned tiredly, but did nothing to make her cease, his hand encouraging her movements to be faster and to stay still for a second or two longer than she'd started to whenever her lips met the ring of fingers around the base of his big cock, grunting out a breathy "yeah," as she lingered there with the entirety of his length and girth encompassed by the warmth of her lips, mouth and throat. It was working, her fingers weren't supporting anything anymore, he was hard, hard enough to fuck her again…but the way he seemed to want to be deep throated was making Joss understand he'd rather be sucked off this time. Well, not what she'd hoped for, but still, having him inside of her was having him inside of her...and Joss wanted more than she could take.

Big blue veins throbbed against her lips as she pulled her mouth back up his shaft, Tig's hand pushing her downwards again as she held his low-hanging balls in the palm of her other hand, gently and slowly rubbing the skin that contained them as she rolled both big, swelling, egg shaped testicles gently with her fingers. Again Tig groaned; laying back against the pillows as the tension built beneath Joss's full breasts, her nipples kissing his groin and thigh as her mouth worked him, sucking, licking, warm and wet. She could hear how rapid and heavy his breathing was becoming, could feel him straining against her, like he wanted to thrust, and likely would soon, but for now he was trapped by the pleasure of it all, able only to lay back and feel his big cock being worshipped by her mouth, letting Joss do what she did so well. She loved pleasuring him like this; admittedly it made her feel powerful to bring a man of Tig's stature, intensity and dangerousness such crippling pleasure, but also because of the closeness and trust the act brought both of them. Joss needed him close in a way that surpassed most of the normal standards of intimacy, and perhaps to Tig this was a blowjob, and it was of course, but to Joss, here and now in her time of such an insatiable need to be close to him, it was so much more. She felt able to give her attention to him in this way more closely than she could any other way, and the idea of it warmed something pure in her heart. She'd come to find a more tender connection of love performing this act upon him than she'd ever understood possible before; her mouth, gently expressing her feeling for him with strong, wet warmth, as the place where she drew breath in passion mingled with the most sensitive of his physical centers. Tig's strong inner thighs, his lower abdomen, his big, heavy balls and his long, stiff, bulky, beautiful cock were a delight to be shared and savored in her mouth, promoting so much trust and so much security between them as the two bound souls they were. Joss loved him above all other things, but there was no saying it with this act, there was only showing it…and she did…could have continued to do so for hours.

But in far less time Tig was growling and grunting beneath the tender attentions of her mouth, grabbing a knot of her hair and pulling her lips free of his cock, its purplish head as swollen as it could get, the whole meaty organ throbbing as he breathed harder and harder, his own hand suddenly grabbing his shaft and yanking viciously on it. He was cumming and Joss felt a satisfied arousal ripple within her, accompanied by some disappointment as well…she'd wanted to be able to draw him into herself as he broke his dam, to swallow him whole and hold him within her. But no, not what Tig had in mind…he obviously had his own needs, whether he spoke to her about them or not…Joss knew what was coming and knew why her man desired it, and she wouldn't deny him; this was his most primeval way of claiming her, forever. Joss relaxed in his grip, let Tig push her cheek against the thrumming head of his cock, the slit within it contracting as Joss closed her eyes, Tig's breathing even more labored and then he groaned deeply, his pumping hand moving even faster and faster until there was a sudden hot burst of sticky, sloppy fluid spilling against Joss's skin, dripping down to her chin. Tig's entire body jerked again, the head of his cock contracting one more time, Joss turning her head just enough to let what bloomed, white and viscous, from his pounding cock paint her lips.

She remained crouched there, eyes closed, mourning the way the surrounding air stole the heat of Tig's body from the fluid coating her skin as it dripped down to her breasts. He hadn't said so, he never would, but it was pretty obvious that Tig had wanted to be with her too, to hold up with her somewhere and be able to look at her and see obviously, and feel immensely, that she belonged to him. When Joss's eyes opened, he was staring at just that, his woman, his property, his wife, covered in the most male of all his essences.

She was his of course, there was nothing to ever challenge that, but for Tig, there was nothing like seeing it…and that he'd wanted to, now, made Joss feel a little less guilty about her inane fear of him leaving her. Not that she dared to think Tig was going through the same thing; if anything, cumming on her face was just because they had been separated for so long, and he'd wanted to remind both of them that she was his, marked for life, live and die together…Annabelle Lee…Joss decided there and then to make sure Tig read that poem, she'd find it online and print it out, fold it up and tuck into his cut…the poem was perfect for them…hmm…maybe it was that realization that Tig bore a resemblance to Poe that suddenly kicked her desires for him into warp factor nine?

She waited until Tig had taken in all he wished to survey and gave a quick nod of his head towards the bathroom, dismissing her to clean herself up…which felt so…sacrilegious…though Joss did realize how ridiculous her thoughts were quickly becoming. She rushed off to the sink though more afraid that she was somehow wasting her remaining time with him than she truly was that washing away his cum would somehow be disrespectful. It was unlikely that she'd be able to get him hard again now…not after two back to back orgasms like that…but still, she didn't want him to leave…why couldn't they just stay here for a few hours, wrapped up in each other? She cupped the last handful of water to her face then grabbed a handful of bathroom tissue to wipe at the little specks of semen on her chest and breasts, suddenly recalling that her breath may not be the sweetest right now. She'd hoped to coax Tig into a "cuddle" or two, lay around and kiss for awhile…sometimes he'd do that, when he didn't realize that he was, but penis breath certainly wasn't going to promote what she wished for. She opened the medicine cabinet in the hopes of some mouthwash being in residence. Luckily there was…along with about four packs of breath mints…yeah, the dorm wasn't flop-n-fuck or anything!

She was so afraid that Tig would be sitting at the edge of the bed, fully clothed again and putting his boots on by the time she came out of the bathroom, but Joss was more than delighted to find him still laying in the bed, smoking a cigarette. She smiled at him and tried not to look overly relieved or anything, but when Tig quirked a crooked smile at her, she knew he knew she was. "C'mere," he told her, flipping the sheet back for her. "Didn't get it in your hair, did I? I know you hate that."

"We have the best conversations," Joss couldn't help but squeak out a little laugh as she lay down beside him, intending to snuggle close to him, lay her head on his chest, but Tig sat up, putting the cigarette out and then laying down again on his side facing her, but reaching out to grasp her upper arm affectionately, only Joss took advantage of his open reach, burrowing in against his chest, but not imposing further by locking her arms around him, despite how badly she wished to.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tig was sighing like he really hated this, and he might have, he couldn't exactly help it, but he also wasn't preventing it or pushing her away from him. "You're like a fucking tick lately."

"I know," she acknowledged heavily, hoping Tig didn't mind too much. "I'm sorry…it's just that thing that I can't figure out, but I'm try—"

"Yeah," Tig answered then his hand stroked her hair. "It's alright, baby. You need me, I'm here. I told you that," he reminded, then sighed again. "No matter how much I fucking hate this shit…"

Again Joss laughed a little. "Thank you," she murmured as she pushed forward enough to kiss his lips softly, Tig returning the osculation, but it didn't turn into what she'd hoped it would…hmm…he must have wanted to talk about something. Hopefully it wouldn't be another speculation that would start with "Are you okay?"

"Look," he said, touching her cheek that had been baptized in his cum. "There's some stuff happening tonight, but I don't want you worried about it, because it's nothing you need to worry about." He told her, looking levelly at her, and despite his ordering tone, a million questions were popping forth in Joss's head. What was going on? Was it about Jax? Was there some kind of show down about to happen between the deposed prince and the crowned one? Was a fight brewing? Or…hmm…it was a long shot, but was it about Gemma? Joss loved Gemma, but the queen was in serious need of some kind of…intervention or something to make her deal with her Jax issues and let the hell go of all the wedding shit! 'Evermore,'…it could be a counseling center! Tig would try to hide that from Joss, he wouldn't want Joss to think that her anti-wedding attitude had somehow put Gemma in the loony bin! "Joss," Tig called to her, sensing that her attention had dissolved into wild conjecture. "You gettin' me?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly, but too quickly. Shit…well, he knew she'd been thinking up a storm, might as well just start firing off some questions…even if Tig wasn't likely to answer them. "Are you going to be alright? I mean, it's nothing dangerous, right?"

"Joss," Tig shook his head in annoyed frustration. "Didn't I just tell you not to worry?"

Damn, he'd put that down tout suite! "Yes," she answered, trying not to sound annoyed and frustrated herself, but looked back at him again. "It's not like I can help it, you know. I love you far too much to not worry when you tell me not to worry." Tig was shaking his head again, about to tell her one more time "not to worry" when right on cue, the pain capsule concealed in her right side burst open, gripping Joss in misery once more, a feeling like something being blown up bigger and bigger and bigger inside her taking over, making her gasp so hard she couldn't even breathe as she pulled her knees to her chest and rolled into a little rocking ball.

"Joss!" Tig's frustration was gone, replaced by ghost white fear. He sat up, both his hands on her, not sure where to touch her, just calling her name again and again as she struggled to answer him…to tell him "not to worry." The pain was lessening now, still sharp, but not the attack it had been, leaving Joss with a new worry…being carted off to the hospital…why'd this have to happen right where Tig could see it all? "Shit Joss! What's wrong? Answer me!"

It was a dull rumble now in her right side, finally she could breathe, and all her energies now turned to settling her man. "I'm…" her voice failed her a moment and she took another deep breath. "I'm fine," she told him, trying to sit up now to prove it, but Tig's hands held her down, wouldn't let her move. "I'm not even sure it's real or not." She reminded him, and hoped he'd go with what she'd told him about the pain being somehow psychosomatic…hell, she hoped she still believed that…but she was beginning to doubt that more and more.

"It looked pretty fucking real, Joss!" There was a brand new annoyance in Tig's voice now, but Joss could tell he wasn't exactly sure just what to do. The pain had backed off now, Joss was okay, smiled at him sweetly and relaxed, hoping to sway him into believing it was nothing, that it was all in her fucked up head…or guilty conscience…or whatever…it wasn't real…she wouldn't let it be real. "C'mon, let's get you over to Saint Thomas's and at least get it checked out. If it's nothing, then good, but I wanna know for sure."

"No!" Joss had protested loudly, but now she had to come up with a good reason for why, and bringing Tara into this equation wasn't going to quiet Tig or his demands. Shit…what could she say? "It's stress, okay? Just let it go," she said, trying to sound confident in what she told him, but she was begging him to believe her, and it tinged her voice. "I really don't want to hear that it's nothing and that I'm just crazy in a whole new way that neither one of us was expecting!" She looked up at him as she unbent her legs and lay there next to him more comfortably, the pain back to its low grade self. "Please Tig," she said, her eyes on his, watching every bit of crystal blue that watched her. "I don't need that right now, I'm dealing with enough."

She expected Tig to either launch into a tirade about her not listening to what she'd been told to do, or just sigh heavily again and wish he could change her mind, but he did neither. Instead, one of his hands was abruptly on her right side, palpating like he was some world renowned surgeon. Joss protested, tried to wiggle away, but Tig pinned her with both a stern look and his free hand, and then pressed into the softness above her right hip a little more. "Don't move!" He snarled.

"But," Joss couldn't help it, pressure was not a good thing here, she'd already learned that the hard way at her photo shoot when she'd freaked Opie out. "Pushing on it isn't exactly making it better!" She tried to sit up…why she didn't know…Tig was too much stronger than she was, if he didn't want her to move, then she wasn't going to move.

"Joss, stop!" He ordered, his tone so serious as his hand shifted around again on her right side, pressing in a new spot with the heel, "be still," he told her, his voice a little lower as he seemed to be centering in one specific area below her navel and inwards of her hip bone, "I think I feel something…"


	28. Health Care

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 28

Tig was still shaking his head as he walked with Joss out of the emergency care clinic in Lodi. She'd refused to be taken to Saint Thomas's, which was stupid…it was right fucking there, but Joss would only go to be checked out if he swore not to take her to Saint Thomas. But they should have gone there…how the fuck did Tig know if the guy that looked at his Joss was even a real damn doctor? The guy wasn't working in a real damn hospital! Mr. White Coat hadn't done a damn thing either…gave Joss some acid reflux meds, said it was probably indigestion due to stress of the wedding, and being separated from her "betrothed;" the guy had called Tig her "betrothed"…asshole…what a dumb, fucking word! What the fuck did that shithead doctor know anyway? Indigestion? What the flaming hell? Something was wrong with the girl; Tig had felt it with his own hands!

Tig had been there in the exam room and couldn't believe that half assed diagnosis, and immediately began to dispute it, which Joss wasn't real happy about…she wasn't happy that Tig insisted on being in the exam with her either, but fuck, given the area of her pain, and all the horrible things it could have been, there was no way he was letting her disappear into that exam room by herself…hey, she said she wanted her old man with her, he was fuckin' with her! She'd sat on the exam table, that irritating white paper lining crackling beneath her as she sat sighing at him and swinging her feet in boredom as Tig sat in the chair that was in the corner. "You tell him everything, Joss! Don't leave one God damn thing out!" He'd ordered her, his gruffness out of character with the concern, fear and desperation to protect her that leaped and bounded within him…he just wanted to know she was okay…and if she wasn't, he wanted someone to make her okay again!

The doctor was Hindu…it was wrong in a way that Tig didn't generally associate with himself, but he'd been so filled with initial hope that this guy was a really good doctor…weren't all the really good doctors Hindus and Arabs? Oh yeah, and Asians…shit…nope, that was a real asshole kinda thing to be thinking, but he couldn't help it, he was so worried about Joss, and just wanted an answer. But the one they'd gotten didn't comfort him…just pissed him off!

Joss had done just what her old man had told her to do, she explained what the pain she'd been feeling was like and where it was, how it had been increasing in intensity and when it seemed to occur the most…usually when she wasn't with Tig…go figure. She'd explained the fall from the damn horse…breaking her recount of how she'd landed long enough to look at Tig as say, "I really need to get back over there and work with Sam! He's going to be twice as crazy now that he's been sitting for so long!" But Tig had glared at her roughly and Joss immediately got back on course, describing how the pain was turning into a series of sudden attacks, like the one he'd witnessed that had initiated this trip to a…medical facility…shit…Tig shoulda just called 911…Joss would have thrown one hell of a raging fucking fit, but once she was strapped down to a gurney, any spider monkey escapes were technically the paramedic's problem.

Indigestion…the moment the word mangled its way out on the thick accent of the doctor, Tig had started protesting it, getting to his feet with a look on his face like he'd just been lied to. "No," he contended as he grabbed the doctor's arm. "She's got a lump, I felt it. It's on her right side, feels about as big as an apple, maybe a little smaller." He pointed to the area between Joss's navel and hip where he'd pressed his hand only an hour and a half ago, wanting the doctor to do the same, to look into it, to check her the fuck out and not make what seemed like some kind of guess. There was a lot going on, a lot of plans had been made, Tig should have been grateful to hear that it was just indigestion, but somehow…for some reason…no, that wasn't it, it didn't sound right.

The doctor was infuriatingly calm, though caught a little off guard that some wild eyed biker had suddenly grabbed him by the arm, but he turned to Tig in full on 'explain it in layman's terms' mode. "Geeven her medeecal heestoree, eet does not sound very sereeus." He said in a tone that was obviously supposed to be calming, but it wasn't…it was far from calming. "Thee 'loomp' you felt was likely a pockit of gass."

At that Joss looked up from the table and gave Tig a glare of warning. "Don't you even go there!" She told him, pointing her finger at him…obviously meaning about the "pockit of gass," but Tig was in no mood.

"Shut up!" He shouted down at her then turned back to the doctor to continue his fight for her, feeling his blood turning hot in his veins…God damn motherfucker in a white lab coat! Why didn't he do his job the right fucking way? "Pocket of—" Tig was so angry he couldn't even continue his sentence, nearly spitting the rest of the words through his teeth. "You're not even lookin', doc!" He gritted out, trying to be calm, but how could he be calm when Joss was in trouble and the only person who could effectively help her was willing to just slap a "cured" sticker on her without even…running tests or whatever the fuck! "The girl's been in hella pain, I've seen it! It could be cancer or something!"

"Cancer or something?" Joss repeated, looking up at Tig now as they walked from the emergency clinic, Tig holding the door for her from behind and her ducking under his arm. "Why do you need this to be something so dramatic?"

"I don't," he bit out at her, but he just felt so fucking anxious now…something was wrong, and no one knew what it was yet. "The last thing I want is for you to be sick like that, Joss, you know that! But I don't think it's just indigestion!"

"Oh, so that makes it cancer?" She snipped at him as they stepped onto the pavement outside and her short tempered speech lit him up…but not in anger alone…Joss…that damn girl didn't get snippy unless she had a reason…unless something was wrong…shit…something was wrong, Tig had known that for awhile, but Joss was acting like maybe she was putting the pieces together, her constant need to have her old man close, the pain…she'd connected them…fine, maybe it was an upset stomach due to stressful situations, but she knew what it all meant or would soon…but she was trying to hide it…no…c'mon Joss…whatever it was, just say it!

Tig grabbed her as she tried to step ahead of him and storm off, catching a handful of the fringe on her patch and spinning her around to face him, quickly clamping both hands onto her shoulders and holding tightly, not certain just what he was going to say to her, but he knew it wasn't going to be a quiet conversation…at least until…he looked forebodingly down at Joss, her pretty, green eyes wide with big, round pupils…she was scared…but not of her old man. Fuck…Tig felt himself sigh heavily as he looked down at her, wanting so badly to help her, but still he didn't know how, not if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong. "C'mon baby," he said to her, his voice almost a whisper, his talon like grip on her shoulders lessening. "Don't do this," he asked, shaking his head and beseeching her further with his eyes, but Joss, in spite of her obvious ill at ease, only sighed. "Don't disappear into whatever this is. You talk to me, little girl, that's how it is in this thing we got. You're there for my crazy and I'm here for yours, so…just…tell me what it—" The roar of a dyna's engine caught him off guard and made Tig look towards the parking lot, and then he'd wished he hadn't…of fucking course…

Opie didn't park his bike, just drove right up beside the pavement in the horseshoe drive of the clinic, stopping in front of Tig and Joss, killing the engine as his eyes graced over Joss from head to toe protectively before he focused on Tig…God fucking damn it! Not speaking to Joss, but looking to the brother than owned her was correct etiquette…but showing up here was not! Shit-fucker! Even when big ol' Chewbadooba got parts of shit right, he still somehow got a majority of it wrong! "Hey," Ope said, trying to sound casual now despite how wracked with worry his features were; yeah…Tig knew exactly why Ope was here, and soon Opie admitted to it. He glanced anxiously towards Joss for a dragged out second, then back at Tig. "She okay?"

Joss's eyes never left her old man…in fact, with Opie sitting there beside her on his bike, dripping with devotion and concern for her, Tig's beautiful, sweet, dark, perfect, little angel leaned closer and lay her head below the Sergeant at Arms badge on Tig's chest. God damn…she really was perfect, and she reminded him of that at just the right moments…what else could Tig do but put his arm around her? Aw fuck…why not the other one too? Peace settled over her just like it did every time Tig held her, and while it wasn't much, there was some comfort in that for him. He looked at Ope, wanting to growl and snarl and sneer, but it just wouldn't happen when Tig was holding Joss soft against him. "How'd you find out I took her to Lodi and why?"

Opie's uneasiness only increased and he sounded agitated, clearly worried about Joss's condition more than he was anything else. "You're next in line to the throne, she's your old lady, and you don't think that shit like this gets around?" Ope rattled, his eyes falling on Joss again, shrouded in Tig's arms though she was. "Is she alright?" He asked again, but this time his voice was a little firmer.

Fuck, Tig knew what it was like to feel what Ope felt…but every time it was apparent that Opie was feeling it, Tig got a little more pissed about it…the guy was trying, Tig couldn't dispute that, but Ope had to stop doing this shit…if not out of respect for his brother, then out of respect for his brother's old lady! "We don't know yet," Tig said, a bit surprised that he'd said that to Opie, and Joss was immediately looking up at him.

"Don't say that," she begged, still trying to hide, still trying to ignore this, and still scared. "Please," she added, grabbing each side of the zipper in his cut with her hands. She really did want whatever this all was to be over with, but Tig knew it wasn't…he just knew it wasn't. "Look," she said, managing a smile. "You've got stuff to do before tonight comes, you said so. I have stuff to do too," she paused a moment and sighed, "now that I'm free again, and can get to it, that is!"

She clearly had plans, something to distract her no doubt…and Tig did have shit to do…a lot of shit to do…this whole run to the emergency clinic couldn't have happened on a worse day at a worse time…but just what was it that Joss was planning on getting done? He looked down at her sternly. "No horse, Joss!"

"Hey, I'm available," Ope intruded once again…fuck, Opie really really really had to quit this shit! "If she needs help, bro, I'm glad to—"

"No!" Tig did growl that time, feeling his angry tone resonate within his chest and against Joss's cheek as he held her. "I'm taking her home; she doesn't need your help to lay on the couch, cuz that's what she'll be doing until I come to get her later."

"What?" Joss looked up at Tig again, more confused now than scared. "'Come and get me later?' Where are we going?"

Oh hell…fucking Chewbadooba! Tig looked down at Joss again, trying to smooth this over. "Don't worry about it, isn't that what I've been telling you?"

"I'm not going to the hospital, Tig!" She replied staunchly and suspiciously. "You heard what the doctor here said, I'm fine!"

Opie sighed in relief and Tig couldn't help but cock his head and bare a canine tooth at him from behind a curled lip, but he looked back at Joss, trying so hard not to take out his annoyance with Ope on her…even if she was causing some of that annoyance herself as well. "We'll talk about it later," he said sternly, but stroked her hair. "Just go home and get some rest, okay?"

"But," she began, but Tig instantly shushed her, laying his index finger to her lips, there'd be no more discussion of this, not until tonight…when there still wouldn't be a "discussion" about it, Tig was just hauling her off to Saint Thomas. Joss quieted, but reluctantly so, wanting to speak so badly…and it must have been important, because she looked pleadingly at Opie in her sentenced silence, like she wanted him to say something to Tig so her old man would let her finish what she'd been trying to say, and Ope being the lovesick dope he was, watched her achingly and then looked at Tig, shaking his head.

"C'mon," Ope encouraged. "It might be important."

God damn it…Joss and her fucking minions! Bobby…Chucky…Chewbadooba…but okay…maybe it was something important…Tig would never know until he lifted the invisible muzzle he'd strapped Joss into. He looked down at her, rolling his eyes like he was already regretting this. "What?"

She smiled a little, but in a sad way, like she was afraid he was still going to tell her "no"…yeah, whatever it was, it meant a lot to Joss…but she needed to rest…there was a lot happening tonight, and something was still wrong with her, and it wasn't indigestion. "I wanted to," she sighed again, looking a little less scared now, comforted by whatever her intended plans were. "I wanted to go get you a wedding present."


	29. Bait

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 29

Tig's always been a sick and unpredictable bastard. I learned a long time ago not to put anything past him, never figured it would quite burn me as bad as it ultimately has…Donna…I keep expecting her to be there at home waiting for me, pissed as hell that my full time hours are at the garage, at the club and not the mill…Donna…but it's more than just her between me and Tig now. Tig's a brother I reluctantly call "brother" for a host of reasons and Donna may not be the only one, but she definitely ranks first. That's not to say I haven't put effort into getting along with him, forcing myself to interact with him, keeping some superficial, ignorant, façade of brotherhood there, I have to; Lincoln himself said "a house divided against itself cannot stand," and he was correct. Donna…yeah, I do believe Trager's sorry, it's just that knowing he is for some reason pisses me off even more. Sorry…what good is "sorry?"

But, I have to realize that I'm "sorry" too; never wanted this. But it is why I'm here, it is why I'm trying to think of something to say to Tig now, some stupid nothing thing to open a conversation that will ultimately lead to information about her. Her…something's wrong, and Tig and I both know it. Just like everyone else in the world, Tig's not without his good points, one of which being how protective he is over her, and that's just what I need him to be too…keep her safe, bro…for the both of us. But just incase he's not…yeah, that's why I'm here now, trying to squeeze out some details about where she is right now and how she was when he left her.

What if I don't like the answer? That's always the hard part, disagreeing with him, but having no course to say so. That has to stop…for so many good reasons…but I know it never will. Tig may have his good points, but they're still so different from my own. But, push come to shove, I can follow his lead when the time comes…maybe…well really, I don't know, haven't been tested yet. Or have I? Maybe everything I do and say around him is really about…her? Maybe she is why I'm around him at all? Yeah, like I want to spend the rest of my life as the queen's 'personal guard." But I will…I know I will…God damn it, I will. I'm done dissecting it, looking for what it is that binds her to Tig so seamlessly, I'll never know, I just accept it now. Like I accept the club's future, Tig…the more I feel myself hating him, the more I know it's because deep down, I realize he's who we need, that he can do it…her…anyone can do anything if they have her.

Besides, what the hell other choice does this club have anymore? Jax? It hurts too much to think about that, to see him fall the way he has, to finally see for certain everything I knew was in him before but never wanted to believe; he's just not of 'the life,' lives under a one-percent patch that he can't live up to…a sheep in wolf's clothing. Jax's vision has always been poor, just can't see beyond himself, I've known that for awhile, I guess I was waiting for him to grow up, and he did, but his issues grew too, grew and grew until the only way he could handle them was to put his club, his friends, his family…me…at stake. I know this, I've seen it, Jax has told me in his very own words…but damn it…part of me still waits for it to all not be so…or to at least hear some reason behind it I know I'll agree with. We're not kids anymore though, I can't keep on waiting for that to happen, and I won't. I've waited since the eighth grade for that to happen, and all that waiting has only gotten me one thing: my best friend has betrayed me more than…yeah…all I got left is this club, my kids…in a regrettable way, Tig…and of course her.

I know Tig hates it when I find him sitting alone and ruin it for him by joining him, but sorry Tig, not letting you get ahead of, or in back of me ever again…if you're planning something, I'm in, I'm there, I know every detail…that's the only way to live with you and not become a casualty…I learned that the hard way. I'm not even sure what it is I'm protecting anymore though…yeah…fuck, yeah I do.

"You let her go out?" I ask stepping up to my bike; Tig's parked right beside me, it doesn't look exactly like I'm following him, even if I am. He doesn't really notice this time, eyes glued to a piece of unfolded paper, reading what looks like a poem instead of heading home for the day. You'd think he would be with what he's got planned for tonight…gonna be like surgery with no anesthetic.

"Sent Chucky with her," he answers, but doesn't look up from whatever it is he's reading even though it doesn't look that lengthy. Chucky…the handsy little misfit's only here because of Tig's outlandish, sudden burst of compassion…yeah, sick and unpredictable bastard. "Told him if she so much as puts her hand in her right pocket to call me!" He growls even now, but really I'm surprised he let her go to find that wedding present for him at all. But one thing I do know about Joss is that nothing stops her from doing something for her old man…nothing.

"That's fair," I agree, and usually that would piss him off…and it should…she is his, what I think doesn't matter, he doesn't need my approval, but Tig still doesn't look up from the piece of paper he's holding. What is it? I throw my leg over my bike, grab my helmet and look up a bit to fasten the chin strap, but really I'm trying to read the words printed over the creases from the opposite side of them, but all I can really make out, reading backwards, are the words, "we loved with a love that was more than love - I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me." What is that? The word love's printed on that piece of paper more times than Tig's probably said it in his life. Why's he reading that crap? Joss, she had to have planted it on him so Tig would find it later, it sounded like her. But before I can read further and really figure it out, Tig shakes his head and folds the paper back up, tucking it into the interior pocket of his cut, so finally I just go ahead and ask. "You studying for your English final or something?"

"Yeah," and he offers me an expected, sardonic sneer, but he's not leaving, we aren't done here. "Had to let her go do her shopping, man." He says as he looks up at me, and at first I'm shocked to think he's explaining his decision to me about Joss, but no, it's not that…he's still explaining it to himself and I just happen to be here to listen. "I was damned either way in this shit; let her go and she gets sick, it's on me. Don't let her go and it breaks her heart cuz she ain't got a wedding present for her old man, also on me." He pulls a cigarette from the pack in his interior pocket and lights it up quickly, taking a long, deep drag like he really needs it, and yeah, I think he does; we don't know what yet, but something's going on with Joss, she's sick or hurt or…who knows at this point? But it just ain't good…it ain't good at all. Damn Tig…why'd you let her go shopping? But I can tell he's wondering the same thing. "I fuckin' hate being what makes that little girl cry," he continues with a heavy, smoky sigh, then that sneer returns. "And I fuckin' hate that I fuckin' hate it!"

There's a lot of things that I want to say in reply, mostly I want to ask if he knows where she went, I'll go there, keep an eye out for her and make sure she's doing okay, be close to her from afar…fuck…yeah, I'm good at that. But I don't say anything…it would just be stupid…one thing's for sure though, I'd never be sitting around bitching and complaining like loving that girl was some arduous chore. Oh yeah, like it isn't? What the hell is it about Joss that any feelings you attach to her just seem to pull you straight down into some raging sea? Jax…he's the exact same way…oh well, like brother, like sister…Joss is technically his sister now. Only Jax betrayed me in a way so much easier to see on the surface, but Joss? No, not so much…she doesn't even know she's doing it, not really…because she's not, she can't; she belongs to Tig, not me. Not me. But that's not what we're talking about, not really. "I thought you'd be getting used to that feeling by now," I say and smile just enough to make Tig narrow those blistering blue eyes at me.

He gets to his feet abruptly, one hand reaching inside his cut to double check the security of that folded up piece of paper I caught him reading earlier. Whatever it is, it's obviously got some meaning, and it always has been with Tig that things either mean nothing, or they mean everything, there's no in between. Joss is another example of just that; they don't just love each other, they're infected with each other, have become this yet to be classified organism of its very own architecture, hollowed out, crawled in, settled down and closed up by each other…there's no getting them apart, and I know it. Tig takes a final drag on the cigarette and then flicks it to the ground. "Hap took his old lady to Saint Thomas's about a half hour ago," he says like that pisses him off, and I know why it does. "He ain't coming tonight."

A year ago I never would have believed that Happy'd be MIA to see his kid get born, but there were a lot of things I never would have believed a year ago. "So we're a man down?" I nod, but it's not as important to me as I shortly realize it should have been.

"Yeah," says Tig, nodding and grinning evilly at me now. "That's leaving you to cover his detail, bro."

Chapter 29; Part 2

"Does that one look okay to you?" Joss couldn't stop tapping on the glass a few more times in spite of how both the salesman at the store and Chucky had said it stressed the fish. She really wanted the fish to move…Tig had said he'd wanted "mean fish" as a wedding gift, and while he may have been being as facetious as Tig was capable of being, giving him reticent, mean fish just wouldn't cut it. "He's still back there in the corner, and they're supposed to be school fish…why isn't he swimming around with the other two?"

"Maybe he doesn't know he's a piranha too?" Chucky shrugged his shoulders as he stuffed the last of the angel hair into the filter hanging on the back of the newly assembled one-hundred fifty gallon tank. The tank was huge, a whole new piece of furniture that Joss really hadn't counted on, but it looked good here in the dining room in place of a china cupboard; who needed a china cupboard anyway? Well, it sort of looked good here…it would look a hell of a lot better once all these damn beer bottles were picked up and thrown away…God damn it Tig, did he not know how to throw away his empties? It was now confirmed, if Joss didn't clean up the house, it would never be clean…besides the beer bottles were empty cans of Chef Boyardee that Tig had evidently been eating cold, right out of the cans themselves, and his socks were strewn all over the living room…Christ, being held as the hostage bride by Gemma had been a bad thing in so many ways! Joss would be getting this place back in order before Tig came home…to take her to wherever, but she wasn't going to Saint Thomas's, it just wasn't going to happen…but her reasons had less and less to do with seeing Tara than she would have liked them to…she could claim to be okay all she liked to, but it was undeniable now that she wasn't…but she'd still try to. Oh whatever…this house…figures that the first time in a long time that she had a friend over, and the place looked like shit! Chucky had been full of grace though, didn't seem to notice a thing. "There," Chucky smiled as he straightened up and ducked out from behind the massive tank finally. "Looks like it's all set up, everything's bubbling and the light and thermostat are working, whatcha think?"

Joss smiled, her eyes on the enormous fish that were gliding across the tank, weaving in between the live plants, their shimmering sides catching the light as their dusky, red bellied bodies undulated through the clear water. They were all around sixteen inches long, so much bigger than she'd expected, but she'd wanted to get Tig the real-deal piranha, Pygocentrus piraya, and not the look alike, pet trade piranha that most people had in their aquariums. "I like it," she said, standing there with Chucky as they both admired the tank and the fish. "Thanks for helping me! I definitely couldn't have done this by myself!"

"What? As smart as you are?" Chucky shook his head and gave her a devoted, doubtful look of admiration that friends give each other when one wants to show the other that they are selling themselves short, but his expression changed quickly. "You feeling okay? No more stomach ache?"

"I'm good," Joss answered for the twentieth time that afternoon. It would have been a really neat excursion to the pet store with Chucky if he hadn't been asking her if she was "okay" every other minute…but then, Tig had sorta "implied" that was his job. "I feel a lot better now knowing that Tig's wedding present is out of the way, so thank you for helping me with it!" She turned to him and smiled wider, opening her arms to give Chucky, her friend, a "thank you" hug, but he stared her with surprised eyes and backed away.

"Joss, you're welcome and all, but that's probably not a real good idea…" he said, "I got this coping mechanism thing, and it's sorta unconven—"

She sighed, but couldn't help smiling a bit, even if she didn't know exactly what Chucky was referring to. Another one who didn't like to be hugged…wow, was Tig somehow spreading that affliction to those around him? "I'm sorry," Joss smiled, "I was afraid of insulting you if I suggested a handshake, but I didn't know about…" She sighed; she was probably making things worse. "So, other than saying 'thank you,' what can I do?"

"Name one of them after me!" Chucky grinned and Joss began to laugh with him, but Chucky's expression was changing, hardening into concern all of a sudden. "And be honest with me when I ask you if you're feeling alright," he said quickly and sharply, pointing now at her right side…where her hand was again clamped…damn it!

"No!" Joss forced herself to be laughing still, she wasn't in pain after all, it was just those brief thoughts about the pain that had cued her hand to cover the infamous area, she really was okay, but…oh God damn it! "No, this is just me clutching myself in laughter, I'm fine!" She smiled, full of jocularity and removed her hand all at once, Chucky watching skeptically.

Chucky shook his head, heeding the orders he'd been given far too well, even if it was good to see her man being so respected. "Joss, Tig said—"

A sudden, big, loud splash in the tank distracted them both, Joss seeing it first; the piranha that was hanging back and hiding in the corner had suddenly lunged after the other two, one of the fish nearly jumping out of the tank to get away. Damn…Tig wanted "mean fish?" Well, he had at least one then! Joss sighed, the subject adequately changed without her having to say a word. She really was lucky…she'd shut Opie down at the photo shoot with one painful attack, and this time she'd been saved by the fish, even if there hadn't been an actual attack this time.

"Alright boys," Joss said to the fish, "please don't kill each other before Tig comes home!" she warned them, her fingers on the glass this time, but not tapping…just pressing on the glass, like trying to feel the fish swimming around and around within it brushing by her fingers with their slimy, shimmering scales. Piranha…mean fish…but there were meaner things…far meaner things.

Author's Note:  Once again, I apologize for such a long absence! I won't bore you all with the details, but I will just say that finally my hands are working again, though the Rhabdomyolysis continues to hold on. Doing whatever I can whenever I can, but I am so sorry to not have daily updates like I for so long had! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I thank you for your patience and loyalty! 


	30. Sacrament

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 30

"Are you okay?" Joss wouldn't have asked if he could just stop whipping his damn finger around like he was. It stung like hell, though! Was he okay? Yeah, like between the two of them, Tig was the one with some looming and lumbering medical issue…Joss was going to the hospital, he was sneaking that in on her, a trip to Saint Thomas's, a real hospital, to find out what the problem was in her side, really! There wasn't time to be whining over his stupid finger now, they were already behind schedule, but how the fuck was Tig supposed to know that Joss would be waiting at the house for him with a huge tank of piranhas? She'd begged him, no, she'd had Ope beg him to let her go and get a "wedding present;" Tig had finally relented…but piranhas? Okay, yeah, "mean fish," he got it, but still…the girl was nuts…but, hey, that was one of the reasons Tig loved her so damn much.

She was about to get onto the back of his bike, he should have just revved the throttle and stop staring down at the tip of his index finger, his attention to it was making Joss more and more concerned about his injury, but that concern didn't stop her from rolling those pretty, green eyes in that frustrated way. "I told you they were real piranha, why'd you have to test out that claim by sticking your hand in the water and agitating all of them?"

She turned and stood in front of him again, leaning over to take a third look at his stupid finger, but Tig jerked away from her, they didn't have time to be delving into his…fish bite…right now, and besides, he really didn't want to get into it one more time…but yeah, why the fuck had he decided to plunge his hand into the tank and insight a fish riot? But come on…when presented with a huge fucking tank of piranhas, who wouldn't want to see if they…well, "worked?" But, yeah…they fucking worked! Fucking fish! "I'm good," Tig said sharply, tucking the damaged digit inside his cut. "Just get on the bike, Joss! We're late!"

"Well at least let me see how badly it's still bleeding," Joss reached for his arm, trying to get another look at his finger, being as defiant as she could have been…but then, it was because she was so protective of her old man…it was annoying as shit at the moment, but Tig was hard pressed to fault her, but they had to go, now! "You probably need a Tetanus shot, you know," she was half scolding but Tig shook her violently off…damn girl…she loved him, in spite of his stupid self.

"Damn it Joss, just leave it!" He ordered, sounding more irritated with her than he actually was, and Tig wasn't even sure anymore what he was most ticked off with anyway, running late to meet the guys at Evermore, or the little chunk of meat that the biggest of the three piranha had nicked out of his finger…and swallowed…fucking swallowed! It wasn't a massively big chunk or anything, didn't really look like much considering how big the fish was, but damn…the fish ate him…holy shit!

Joss didn't sigh or huff or anything, but she didn't miss the opportunity to express her exasperation with him in the way she slumped onto the back of his bike, likely still worrying about his finger, wishing he'd have let her put the Neosporin and a band-aid on it like she'd been trying to, but nevertheless she snapped her helmet on and wrapped her arms around his waist without another word of concern or protest. Good; and actually, it was kinda good that he'd stuck his hand in the piranha tank too. The aftermath of such an 'all balls/no brains' deed had distracted Joss so much that she'd declined to ask about where it was that Tig was so anxious to rush off to, and she hadn't even been tempted to start stomping and swearing about how she wasn't going to Saint Thomas's if that's where he was rushing her to…but she was going to Saint Thomas's…eventually. Whatever, her distracted silence was good, real good; he was nervous enough as it was, and it had nothing to do with piranhas.

Chapter 30; Part 2

Things were not ready, at least, they weren't the way Tig had seen them being in his mind all day. There was supposed to be more light for one, what happened to the spotlights from the garage? The autumn sun was setting faster and faster, and only the dingy, white, stucco walls of Evermore were visible amidst the trees as they drove towards it. Some kind of vine was twisting its way up the outer walls, spider-ing out like abundant dark veins, burrowing into the dirty stucco, climbing inside the collapsing edifice through a busted out stained glass window. Some windows were still boarded up, but others were destroyed by vandals throwing rocks from the crumbling cemetery wall, leaving the cavernous structure to stand with what looked like rows of eyeless sockets. The walls remained stalwart, only the wooden roof swayed inward under the weight of fallen tree branches and decaying leaves, the weathered boards having given up and fallen through here and there over the main building, white pine roofing planks sticking out like rib bones. The smaller foyer was in better shape, though warped and crooked, as evidenced by how the double wooden doors seemed hinged at a one hundred and ten degree angle, like some eerie, smirking grin. In the coming darkness Evermore was imposing; yeah, Juice was right, it did look "haunted." A century or so ago no one that came here would have predicted that a place so sanctified and inspirational could ever become so desolate and decrepit. It had been a few years since Tig had been back here himself, the long forgotten seat of Charming's faith was a dwindling heap of boards and plaster, but the steeple remained, its wooden spire severely outgrown by the trees around it, but at the top, a cross still reigned.

For some odd and surprising reason, the sight of it calmed Tig a bit, like at last he'd seen something that had gone right tonight, something was like it should have been, even if it wasn't something that had followed him very far through life, and never would. But he did remember what a cross symbolized, God's everlasting love and the promise of triumph over death within the grace of that love. Yeah, sure, whatever, Tig had never really given that whole line a shit much thought…until now…he stopped the bike and turned his head and looked at Joss. Damn, he should have been looking at her more than he had been tonight, he should have been memorizing her expressions for all his days, recording what her hair was like, her makeup…but he wasn't doing that now either. He looked at her, as comprehensibly as he'd ever looked at her before, seeing all that he was to her, seeing the everything he was that she wanted. She didn't look back at him, she was far too busy trying to figure out where the hell they were, but Tig kept looking at her, his Joss, and the context of what he was thinking was…unapologetically and ridiculously blasphemous…but fuck the whole blasphemy shit! He owned Joss! Every bit of that girl belonged to him, inside and outside, physical and metaphysical! She wanted to be so surrounded by her old man that one day they dissolved into being the same dust, she'd said so herself. Tig was her "god," and here, tonight, in the corpse of this sacredness, under the sign of the cross, he was about to make her that very same promise of a life and love everlasting.

Joss was now beginning to shift around behind him on the bike as she took in where they were, in the woods by an old, creepy abandoned building, and she was on the cusp of asking why in hell he'd been in such a rush to get here, but Tig still just didn't feel like answering her, giving her an abrupt glare over his shoulder and stifled her inquiry before it even began. She was a good girl, didn't burden him with hurtful looks when he was tough on her for seemingly no reason, but God damn it, she ought to have been…it wasn't her fault, and Tig really did want her to be happy, that was all. Truth was he'd have explained it all if it looked right, but it didn't, and damn it, he was too disappointed to get into it with her. This just wasn't right…it wasn't supposed to be like this…his brothers were here, he'd seen their bikes, heard their voices. A majority of the day had consisted of working out who was going to do what tonight, so why the hell hadn't they? Fuck…this thing was already falling apart! Hell…maybe it was because he'd seen Joss today? Wasn't that a rule or some shit?

"Hey," out of the darkness came Clay's voice, startling both Joss and Tig, but for different reasons. Joss had no clue what was going on and Tig wasn't sure he was ready to face any of his brothers given how they'd all seemed to neglect the duties they'd been assigned. But he looked up at Clay regardless, wanting so badly to cuss and fume and demand an explanation, but of course he didn't; Tig said nothing in fact, because Clay quickly said something that sort of explained it all. "We've been waiting for a half hour, where you been?"

Fuck! Damn fish! Tig glanced down at his still bleeding right index finger. "Had some trouble," he muttered, and he should have given Joss another flat, speech denying stare after saying that, but he hadn't, and…

"He stuck his hand into a tank full of piranhas." She hadn't put that little 'I told you so' kind of up twist on her tone the way Tig knew she wanted to, and she'd looked at Clay when she'd said it, instead of pinning Tig to the nearest tree with his stupidity, but still…was anything going to go fucking right tonight? So far there was the cross…which, okay, was maybe enough.

"What?" Clay was asking before Tig could even let Joss know how much he didn't appreciate her explanation, and now he had that look to get off of Clay's face, too! "Where the hell did you get piranha?"

"Shit, Clay," Tig groaned, giving Joss a slight shove on the hip, making her get off the bike so he could also get to his feet. "I can't get into it right now, just, what kinda shape we in here?"

Once again that concerned expression crossed Joss's face and she looked first at Clay then at Tig. "What happened?" She peered up through the shadows of trees and trees themselves, her eyes straining in the waning sunlight to see what was going on up by the old church where all the bikes were parked and Tig's brothers were milling around. "Is everyone okay?"

There was a confused guilt gracing the look of concern in her features now, and it kind of made Tig smile…yeah, now she felt bad about not getting on the bike and leaving when he'd told her to…she'd wasted all that time trying to fix the fish bite, and maybe, just maybe, he was rushing off to the aid of his club? Ha! Gotcha on that one, Joss! What? No, shit…c'mon…that's not what this was, or why they were here…the cross damn it, go back to what that meant.

"Everything's fine, sweetheart," promised Clay, putting a hand on Joss's shoulder and looking down at her in a way that was more right for this whole situation than anything else could have been. Clay had never had any children of his own, and just like he'd once explained to Tig regarding how Gemma didn't get to choose Tara, but she did get to choose Joss, it was clear that the same was true for how Clay had no say in Jax, but Joss…the vicious, old, arthritic son of a bitch loved Joss, he'd picked her.

Clay's hand on Joss's shoulder soon became a full on embrace, that Joss clearly didn't understand the motivation for, but welcomed and returned it all the same, disappearing in the mass of Clay's tattooed arms. "Everything's fine," he groaned softly again, "You got nothing to worry about anymore," he told her as Clay began to let go and straighten himself up, but both his hands stayed on Joss's shoulders, her eyes on his in the instinctive manner of a child looking to a parent, and damn if Tig didn't just hear Clay kind of…sputter…like there was a lump in his throat…holy shit! "I want you to know," Clay began, looking down at Joss, but having to stop suddenly and swallow hard. "That I wouldn't give you away to anyone that I didn't think could take care of you and keep you safe and keep you happy," again Clay paused, but this time it was because he was now looking over towards Tig. Damn it, no…don't look at him right now, not when Clay was standing there, hugging the hell out of his "daughter" like that and saying things like "giving you away," and rightfully holding Tig to a degree of pillared obligation that Tig suddenly felt with omnipotent certainty that he'd live up to, now and forever.

This was it, it was going to happen, all the stuff Tig should have been noticing and feeling and thinking before, but was lost in his nervous, cantankerous weirdness, was hitting him full force now. There stood his bride, long, shiny black hair gently swaying in the breeze, peridot eyes framed within the fashion of Egypt's ancient royalty, standing with Clay, in the counsel of her father, who had just given this union his blessing…shit…Tig was starting to lose little bits of that which he'd always fought so hard to keep control of…fuck, he wasn't going to cry was he? No…hell no…why would he? He was happy…a little pissed off, but then, when wasn't he? But damn it, he was happily pissed off…there was no room for tears in that…no, just fight…but emotions were pinging off the walls inside him like golf balls teed off in a tile bathroom, and then Clay dropped the final bomb. He looked at Tig, made sure that Joss was looking at her groom as well, then with red rimmed, but proud eyes, Clay spoke to both Joss and Tig. "I trust that guy over there with a lot of things," Clay said, the command in his voice not swelled out by the obvious sentiment this time. He looked back at Joss again, leaving Tig to finally stand there quivering in some aspect of privacy as Clay tipped Joss's chin upwards, and there was a shocked, excited recognition glowing in her teary, green eyes, she suddenly realized why there were here, at a church; and in some way, it couldn't have been more fitting that it was Clay, the "father" that Tig knew she loved too, that had informed her. "You're one of the most precious," he told her softly, then kissed her on the forehead and stepped back, turning immediately away and walking back towards the church, having to get away from those emo golf balls himself now, but he stopped and turned back one more time, "C'mon," he yelled to both Joss and Tig, neither of which could really move, tears in both their eyes now. "We didn't come out to spook hill for nothing, let's get it on!"

Author's Note: Okay, so how many times can I apologize for disappearing and leaving you hanging? I think I've used up all my "flake" cards, but I do want to thank you for your patience, your support and your readership! I got married (a surprise to many, including myself!) and had hand surgery a few months ago, and both seem to have worked to get me writing again, so hopefully, you'll be seeing more of "Tijo" here at ! Thanks again for your support, your interest, and for sharing your thoughts! You all rock!


	31. Speak Now

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 31

Trager…Joss had looked up the name on a few websites that sold ancestral crests long before Tig had even thought about patching her. It was just one of those silly things that young girls in love did. Tig's last name was either English or German, but she'd never bothered to ask Tig just which nationality his family claimed, because, hey, he was Tig, like he cared about shit like that? Still, in Joss's immature, vivid, pre-property patch imagination, she would often imagine Tig as some brave, powdered wig wearing redcoat, come to ransack her home and captive her away from the life she'd been trying to escape from; or he was the infamous black Baron Von Trager, who ruled the skies in his reaper adorned tri-plane. Trager…Trager…oh God! In just a few minutes, that English or German name was going to be her name!

"You okay?" Tig stood wavering on his feet just as much as Joss felt herself wavering on her own, both of them smiling in this entranced way, like neither could believe this was really about to happen. It was good to see him looking so…spaced out when he'd asked if she was "okay" though, because for a split second, Joss had been worried he'd meant about the pain in her side. But no, he hadn't meant that at all, and as for that damn pain, Joss was flat out denying it the chance to trespass now…no matter what, she'd be okay for her wedding if she had to break her teeth gritting them hard enough to ignore any sudden flare ups! "You need some time?" He furthered, sounding like he just didn't know what else to say at this moment, or maybe he was who needed time, or maybe he was giving her the chance to back out…or, maybe he was just…Jesus…they were getting married, now! Now!

Damn it, what was she wearing? Her patch of course, it had been the first thing she'd grabbed on the way out of Jax's old room, but that was the only decent thing she wore. The rest of her outfit was an old pair of skinny jeans bedecked with droplets of spilled black nail polish and a holey Blue Öyster Cult T-shirt that was two sizes too big…oh God…Tig hated this shirt, and Blue Öyster Cult, but come on, "Don't Fear the Reaper?" Well, okay, maybe that was why he hated them; anyway, Joss wasn't dressed to attend a wedding, particularly not her own! She wasn't sure just where it was that Tig had planned on taking her when he came home, but she'd meant to change before he came back to get her, but so many of her clothes were still at Gemma's and…Gemma! Oh shit! No…no, there was far too much exploding in Joss's mind to add Gemma to it right now, Joss was well and good out of room to contemplate much more than what she already was making her way through, feeling like she was running a hundred miles an hour down some dark hallway to the bright lights of bliss. But she was running towards it in some truly ratty clothes…no, she couldn't marry Tig in stained jeans and an old T-shirt she'd paid $1.50 for at Goodwill! But…how did she explain this to him? He knew she hated all the poofy white dresses she'd been presented with, he wasn't going to understand why she still wasn't happy, and she'd already shot down the idea of eloping so many times, and then lived to regret it…no, she couldn't ask for any kind of "time out" on this one…could she? She had to! It was ruined jeans and an old, raggedy, oversized T-shirt, and not even an SOA one at that!

Joss turned towards Tig, hoping that her silence hadn't worried him, but how did she bring this up? Her hand shook as she raised her arm, sighing loudly and running her trembling hand through her hair, meeting with some resistance about half way down the length of it, like some big, tangled knot with some kind of hard, straight…oh…fuck…how much more perfect could her wedding attire have gotten? "There's a stick in my hair!" Joss heard herself yell it out loud suddenly more like there was a stick through her head; nerves…nerves…the stick must have gotten tangled as she'd brushed through the tree branches, walking with Tig towards the church, but it was just the thing to sum up how unprepared to be a bride she was. She wanted to get married, she wanted to marry Tig so badly…just not like this…home, she had to get back home, she had a few dresses she could dig out of the closet and make them work…somehow…she just needed to get back home, for just a minute or two, and then, she'd be the kind of bride Tig deserved to have! "Tig," she began to say, turning towards him and reaching out to make him stand still with her, so excited, but feeling like she was trapped in one of those "naked in Algebra class" dreams. "I—"

There was the oddest look on his face, and the strangest sound, but nothing unfamiliar to her; Tig was smiling at her, seeing all of her by just locking eyes with hers, and he was laughing in a hearty tone that spoke of just how much he adored her in this moment, reaching forward and gently pulling the stick from her raven tresses. "You are completely freaked, aren't you?" He asked, still chortling and looking into her eyes, reading everything in her, knowing her every dilemma and ready to remedy them all, forever. But first he laughed, "All the shit I've put you through, little girl, and this has got you trippin'?"

When Joss's mouth opened she heard herself laughing too, laughing like a dolphin that had drank way too much coffee…but she couldn't help herself…there was going to be a wedding, and she was going to be the bride…and Tig the groom! This was stupid, she'd known for months that she would be marrying Tig…but…now! It was happening now! She'd never expected to see this day…since she'd met him, she'd been dying to be with him, to belong to him, but she never ever could have contemplated this kind of real world commitment from him! He'd never said it, and he never would, sometimes he didn't act like it either, but Joss knew Tig loved her…enough to marry her…oh God! She felt another onslaught of dizziness when she began to realize that Tig had done all of this, he'd planned their wedding, he'd rescued her from nuptial planning hell at Gemma's house, and he'd put things in the order they should have always been in! Tig! Oh God! She'd forever reward him for that, she'd never forget it…he likely didn't even realize the power of what he was concocting, to him this was sort of a "business" thing, getting this wedding deal out of the way in a manner that would cause the least amount of tears and bloodshed…but oh, he'd done so much more than that, he'd touched Joss in a way she never expected he'd try to. She'd be his wife soon, and she'd be the best wife anyone had ever had in the history of men taking wives! She owed him everything and she'd give him everything in return…and that had to start now, by not marrying him in crumby looking clothes! She had to say something!

The trees and setting sun and noises from the rest of Tig's brothers moving bikes into two rows and setting things up was all whirling around her and Joss couldn't make heads or tails out of any of it anymore, she was too elated and too worried about how to broach the attire subject with Tig, but she took a deep breath, looking up at her man…her husband to be…tall, dark and dangerous with arctic blue eyes…he looked like Edgar Allan Poe and Bruce Springsteen had a baby…she giggled inwardly, didn't care in the slightest, because to her, at this moment, Tig had never looked more gorgeous! And in his dark wash denims, black western cut shirt with pearl buttons and black leather cut, he was also dressed better than she was! The stupidest of grins was on her face, pulled tight by excitement and anxiety. "Tig," she said to him, stammered to him really. "I love you!" Damn…okay, certainly not a mistake to say that, but that's not what Joss thought she'd put in gear to come out of her mouth.

Again Tig laughed, taking her hand and walking them further towards the church. "Yeah," he shrugged with a smug look. "I thought that might be why you were here."

Again Joss laughed, but shit; now she had to rouse up the courage to bring up her clothing all over again, and they were just about at the church, too. "Yeah," she smiled, and reached deep down inside, hoping that when she asked about the possibility of going home to change into something a little more respectful of the occasion, it would be there this time, but now she and Tig were walking through the center of all the activity. Juice was at work on the chain that kept the two cockeyed wooden doors of the church closed, arms flexing with the action of the bolt cutters until the rusted link finally gave way and both doors creaked open, likely for the first time in a few years. Clay and Bobby were checking the accurateness of the aisle way of bikes that lead up towards the church itself and Joss smiled, struck by yet another rush of giddy warmth. There was so much going on, so much that made her feel so good, but it also had been deadening her to most of it, it was just such a surreal thing, but that aisle way Joss felt all the way to her delighted core…Clay, she'd only been able to write "Morrow" behind her first name for a few weeks, and in just moments Clay would walk her down this aisle…in between all the bikes of SAMCRO, into the old church that had been closed to the world for so long, and then he'd give her away to Tig…oh God…Joss felt herself shudder, and tears were once again eminent. Damn…this wasn't getting her any closer to a decent bridal look.

"Hey," Tig was yelling towards Juice where he and Chibs were propping the church doors open, stepping into the foyer to check the building over as they used their feet to push aside small piles of debris that had filtered in through the holes in the old roof. "Tell me you brought the CD player," Tig continued then paused and almost rolled his eyes as his gaze settled on Juice, "with the CD!" Tig's attention was again on the logistics of this thing, and his voice was strong and unshakeable then…yeah, her man was going to be an awesome king!

"C'mon, Tig," Juice sighed, but he also smiled. "You know I wouldn't let you down today!" He promised, but Chibs was immediately on his way over to confirm that both the CD player and the appropriate CD were present, flashing Tig and "okay" sign when he found that they were.

"Nerrvous, broother?" Chibs called to Tig with a smirk, but it was a sincere question meant to offer a shoulder to lean on if Tig needed it, but Tig only had one answer to that inquiry that Joss wasn't sure at all how to read.

"Where's Ope?"

Chapter 31; Part 2 

I don't know why I expected that Joss would be apprehensive, like maybe she'd look up at me with some quiet wish in her eyes to get her the hell out of this, and out of here. But even if she did, where the fuck would that have gone? What? Live with her in my house, in Charming, with my two kids, in front of the club? Oh yeah right, even assuming if that didn't make her and I both dead, how could I expect Joss to want to hook up with a guy with two kids? She was a kid herself. Shit! Why do I even think this far about things with her? She's Tig's, she'll always be Tig's and she couldn't be happier about that.

When Tig called for me, I had just gone inside the church to start setting up one of the lights we use at the garage to cut the shadows from the hoods of the cars we work on. I'm guessing that there never had been electricity at Evermore, because I didn't see any switches on the walls anywhere, and even if there were, it wasn't like I could rewire it into working. Nope, this place would have been off the power grid for years. But, Bobby would need light to perform the ceremony, and I guess Joss would also like to be able to see the man she was marrying…and I'd be able to see it all too. Thanks to Happy's kid choosing this night to be born, I now had a very sickly ironic front row seat, the best man…all of it would go down right in front of me, I'd have to watch it all happen, right down to the end.

I knew why Tig wanted me; the ring, right? Yeah, how fucked up is it that I'm who will hand Tig the thing that will make Joss his in the most final way? Oh well, in a way, I needed that. I hollered something acknowledging back to him and then walked out of the church again, straight over to my bike without looking at him, or her. I pulled at the blanket rolled and tied to the bike frame, unfurling it and catching the black garment bag that slipped free; Tig would want this too, in addition to handing over the ring to me…at least, I'm assuming there's a ring. If there's not, then what the hell does he need me for; the plain old aspect of the torture of it all? Yeah, could be. But really, I didn't feel the way about this wedding that I always thought I would; I flirted with patting myself on the back for not being the sulking bastard I was so certain I'd be, I wasn't going about things like I was trudging through some waist deep sludge towards some destination I had every desire to never reach, even if that is how I felt on the inside. I was getting through, I was staying busy, I was doing good; and then I handed Joss her dress.

Joss was aglow, utterly aglow. Standing in front of her was like having the radiance of flames teasing my skin when she pulled that black, fringed, lace dress out of the garment bag and took it all in. Her beautiful mouth fell open into this innocent, angel choir like, "O" shape, and I know that her breath escaped her, I'd actually felt it's featheriness against the hand that still held up the garment bag. For maybe one tenth of a second I was the recipient of the stunned "thank you" look that overwhelmed her bright, green eyes and pretty face, but I'll never forget it, or how it felt, the way it bored into me and climbed up on the top shelf of my heart with all the other "struck by moments" that I'd been collecting since I met her. But before I knew it, it was over, she was looking at Tig, clutching that dress, that dress that I knew she'd loved the moment she'd seen it, that dress that I had urged Tig to get for her, and she was asking him "how," all other words failing her. Just what Tig's answer was I don't know, because I tuned out, I had to tune out, if I didn't, well, I could already feel my fist tightening and making hard, fast contact with his jaw. Tigger deserved it, in so many ways, but no, I wouldn't do that to Joss, not on her wedding day.

There was more…stuff…happening between them, happy little sniffles on Joss's part, something spoken in a low, whispered tone from Tig to her, and then Joss, with her dress hugged to her chest, turned to run off in the direction of the old cemetery. But, as she'd moved away from Tig, just before she was too far away, she gave me another look, a more refined, modest smile on her face, giving me the credit she knew I was due with some new found sense of peace in her eyes, like I'd somehow saved the day for her. I wanted to stand in there in the light of her gracious visage for the rest of the this night, but all too soon there was an intrusion, a sharp tug at my arm, and when I turned my head from the image of my future queen ducking behind one of the few remaining tall, granite tombstones to change, I was immediately affronted by the determined look of my future king.

"Here," he was half mumbling, looking off in the direction Joss had gone, and I could tell he'd be heading over there to stand guard, or whatever, just as soon as he was done with me. "Hold this until the time comes, got it?" Tig instructed, his attention more on his future wife than it was on me, and he shoved something into my hand, but it definitely wasn't a ring.


	32. Til Death

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 32

"I don't have any shoes!" Joss's remark wasn't fussy or defiant, or any of those things. Yeah, she was still freaked, but she was laughing about being so freaked now, and that was preferable to her earlier reaction. Good, she was coming around, but fuck if there still wasn't sand in someone's pussy! Tig tried to forget it, tried to not even look over towards the church anymore, because every time he did, he found himself glaring at Opie. No, c'mon…this was Joss's day, and Tig's, sorta…but, Tig really wasn't into admitting that. Just think about Joss…think about Joss…that wasn't hard for him to do…motherfucker, it wasn't hard for Ope to do either! No, Joss, Joss, Joss…something about shoes…the stone monument Joss stood behind wasn't the most efficient of dressing rooms, and that's why Tig was standing here, providing his bride to be with a bit more cover where she stood in her black satin bra and panties, shivering in the evening's coolness as she carefully threaded her elegant arms through the delicate silk of that black lace dress. That black lace dress…God damn it…Ope wanted some kind of something, looked like he thought he was owed something as soon as Joss saw that dress…and he'd just forked it over to her without a word from Tig. God damn it to hell! The worst part of it all was that Tig had stood there and saw the whole ordeal about to happen, knew what Opie was going to do the moment he got the dress untied from his bike…but like some dickless punk, Tig had just stood there, eyes open and mouth closed, and let Ope be the hero. What the fuck?

"…barefoot." Tig may not have been hanging in for everything she'd said, but the smile on Joss's face, well, he couldn't be distracted away from that. She was so settled into this, taking enough control of it to just be in high spirits instead of tense and worried about how things were and weren't. She was smoothing the black lace over the curves of her hips, simpering like a little girl as the fine, black fringe tickled her skin, doing her best to catch whatever reflection of herself the old, once polished granite headstone might offer her. "There's lots of leaves over top of everything, I shouldn't cut my feet up too badly, right?" She was asking him, but Tig was still only partially connected to her words, but this time it wasn't because of Ope.

That black lace dress…it was like it had been made for her hour glass form to slip beneath it, the neckline cutting only low enough to suggest a prelude of how perfect her 34 DD tits were, her narrow waist wrapped in the tight embrace of black lace, the smooth, creamy length of her legs on display like a rare jewel set upon rich, black velvet. That black lace dress…it made her look like more of a goddess than Tig usually thought of her as being, particularly when his eyes came to rest on her face, the site where poise met with the desire for his approval, but the most flawless serenity was hanging in her sparkling, green eyes. Joss indeed loved this dress; it was the kind of perfection that made it hard to tell if it was the magnificence of her body, or the splendor of her soul, that moved beneath the thin layers of fabric. She was so honored to be able to wear it as Tig's bride, so touched and so contented that she wasn't panicking over how she had no shoes to go with it, couldn't touch up her make-up, or even run a brush through her long, soft, midnight hair. She was beautiful; she was complete even in this spontaneous incompleteness. Joss was happy, and that's all Tig had wanted tonight.

That black lace dress…yeah, that definitely was Joss's dress, Ope was right…Ope…damn it! Tig sighed, understanding now why he'd stood mute while Opie presented Joss with this dress. Shit, he'd been trying to make things right with Ope, even if some of the ways he went about doing so weren't so overt or intentional. Tig's understanding of Ope's feelings for Joss were infuriating, but at the same time, they were what made Tig allow Ope to just up and hand over Joss's dress to her…the future king was trying to merciful, trying to give his brother…something. But it had ended with Ope standing bent over the generator by the church, looking dejected and pissed off, and Tig over here, so fed up that he'd wasted the opportunity to notice every last detail of his wife to be, because he was jealous and pissed off himself. Jesus Christ…where and how did this thing with Opie end? What would it take?

"Are you okay?" That question seemed to be floating on the air all over the place tonight, but this time it was Joss asking him. She was still unflappable in the peace she'd come to in this hustle of a wedding, but Tig's silence was obviously confusing for her.

"Yeah," he said, unhitching his thoughts from Ope again, evacuating all the unrest, hate and guilt they always generated. "You look good," Tig smiled, but somewhat disappointed that all the imagery that had gone ballistic in his head when he'd gotten the first look at Joss in that dress had dwindled to three miserly words when he opened his mouth. Joss smiled all the same, that quiet, gift of a smile that let Tig know how lucky she felt to be his. He was about to say something to reward that, but Joss slipped her hand into his and was tranquilly taking in where they were, where he'd chosen to marry her, and Tig wouldn't disturb that. Shit…fuck…what Joss remembered about Evermore tonight would be the only pictures from her wedding that girl would ever have! That memory of hers be praised, but damn it to hell, how could Tig, who'd appointed himself Joss's "god," have forgotten about something like that? No wedding photos…nothing for her to look back on…nothing for him to remember how she looked in that black lace dress…forever.

Chapter 32; Part 2

It was startling how swiftly Evermore was becoming familiar, how soon it felt like a place that she and Tig had been coming to forever, like a place that was theirs, like home. This old church had held so much promise once, had filled the hearts and hopes and dreams of those that had raised it from the ground, cared for its wellbeing and given it their love. The ghosts of that tending and veneration were still here, holding those boards in place over the brilliance of the surviving stained glass windows, following along after the Baby's Breath that had escaped its once tidy beds around the outer foyer; their spectral backs straining to hold erect the few tombstones that had escaped the callousness of vandals. The gloominess and loneliness of this old church were only on its surface, for even in this state of ruination, Evermore lived, and thrived. Joss could feel it, she was absorbing Evermore and what was about to happen there, warmed by the atmosphere of it all as it seeped through every pore of her pale skin, blending into two human forms, herself and Tig. Both of them had their start being loved and nurtured, they'd both been the stuff of someone's dreams…but now they each stood in ruins, minds crumbling beneath the battering of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, souls shattered by everything they'd done or experienced that could never be erased, never be righted…the pain, that damnable, horrid beast of an ache in her side whispered to her now, called to her in a mocking tone, reminding Joss that it could spring forth at any moment. No, she wouldn't let it, she'd ward it off; it wouldn't intrude here on these hallowed grounds! That pain wouldn't change what she and Tig were, because they were Evermore! Like this gutted structure that seemed so broken down behind them, they were full of life, thriving in the spectral force that was their fortification, passion and insatiable love for one another. Evermore was Joss and Tig, and Joss and Tig were Evermore.

"You've got that look in your eyes, little girl," Tig's half laughing, half annoyed tone was a welcomed interruption of her thoughts. He was watching her again, reading her; he'd been doing that since he met her and hardly if ever didn't know what she was contemplating. "What's going in there, Joss?"

Her gossamer fingers within his strong hand smoothed the roughness of his palm, making Tig pull her a little more against him. She smiled, "you already know," she said, her voice a comforted whisper as she settled securely back against the broadness of his chest.

"I do?" Tig asked as his powerful arms closed around her, holding her to him…like he'd never let her go…never.

His chin soon lay atop the crown of her head, her body nearly tucked into his, a cage that Joss never wished to be let out of. They would be married soon, but there was still one more "forever" to be claimed. Joss's smile relaxed even more across her face as she began to recite her own quote to him. "I love you, I need to be with you, no one has ever gotten so much inside of me, or become so much a part of me," she looked out across the deserted graveyard like it was their own private Eden. "I want to lie in the earth together, disintegrating into one another, where no one will ever be able to separate us ever again…" her head tilted up as Tig's tilted down, her eyes brimming with so much boundless devotion that melted in the feverish glare of all consuming love that blazed in the cool blueness of Tig's eyes. He remembered; she knew he would. He understood; she knew he would. He'd make it happen, she knew he would. "This is the place."


	33. One

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 33

For some reason, everything was kinda funny; it was difficult to stand here, across from Joss, in front of Bobby and the open little text he was reading from, and not give into the urge to be grinning and snickering like some dirty joke had just been shared. But Tig wasn't alone in that, because Joss was just as giggly and fidgety too, trying to lock eyes with her old man and feel this whole process of becoming his wife, but the truth was, every damn time she looked at him, or he looked at her, it made them both smirk and shudder with tamped down laughter that was becoming like the bubbles in a bottle of champagne being opened. And so they stood, at the paint peeled white altar of the left behind church, Bobby going on about the duties of this most sacred union and how it could strengthen any club, and neither Tig nor Joss tried to behold one another for fear that doing so would turn them into a pair of betrothed hyenas. It had to be nerves, this was a big fucking deal…but it was good, this comical excitation, like jumping on a trampoline and feeling so weightless and unbound, blessed with the ability to fly and be free of the earth, if for only a few fleeting moments…but then that's what Joss and he had always done for each other, they lifted each other up out of what they'd become.

This wasn't at all what Joss had been expecting tonight, and she'd been dealing with it really well, didn't whine or wish that her new friend Chucky could have been here, or Hobbitch, who was supposed to be her Maid of…whatever. Nope, his perfect, dark, little angel understood, this was club only, and she was more than pleased about that. Joss, she really was something, beautiful, smart, loyal…crazy…shit, how'd all those things get into one girl, and how in hell had Tig managed to end up with her? He took a chance, shifting his eyes in her direction, hoping she wouldn't be doing the same thing and make them both fall out laughing, but it was safe, Joss was now looking down at the filthy, dead leaf strewn floor of the church with great scrutiny. Why? Tig watched peripherally as her expression grew more and more revolted, like there was something down there that was really grossing her out. What the hell could it have been? Careful to skip over Joss in his line of vision, Tig also turned his eyes down to the floor, searching what Joss had been twisting her face up about, and it didn't take long to find it. A non-club, uninvited wedding guest wriggled and undulated on the floor…a maggot, right by Joss's bare feet. Oh shit…Tig had told Juice to "get everything!" Well, now wasn't the time to bite Juice in the ass over a displaced maggot, Tig was in the middle of getting married! But, someone had to do something, and so hell, why not just assume some husbandly responsibilities a little early?

The thud that resonated within the stucco walls of the old church was impressive, making all of his brother's in attendance jump in startled surprise. Bobby almost dropped the little, black text he'd been reading from, and even Tig was a bit amazed at how well the echo of his boot slamming down on the pale, yellow-green larva rattled through the decaying building. The faces around he and Joss were now a mix of confusion, and some chuckling, Bobby standing there, giving Tig a strange look, paused in his conduction of the knot tying. Tig's head jerked up, the impatient look on his face meant for Bobby, but his eyes tripped over Joss as he went to look at him. That maggot was gone, flat, no more wriggling anywhere near her shoeless feet, but she still had that revolted look on her face.

Tig took a chance at losing what composure he'd been able to maintain and looked down at her, shaking his head like he was annoyed by the interruptions that her antics were causing. "What?" He hissed to her under his breath, as if his brothers couldn't hear him anyway.

Joss cocked her head sideways and sighed in her own annoyance, then lowered her voice in the same manner as had Tig. "I'm obviously standing where the dead raccoon was!"

There was a low rumble of laughter around them now, but Tig ignored it, feeling suddenly like he had to set some kind of example for her of how to act at a wedding. "So?" He whispered back to her with a slight scowl and a shrug of his shoulders. "It's not like there's a lotta raccoon juice or anything."

The laughter around them increased now, and so did Joss's annoyance, she'd sacrificed a lot of things that were meant to be at her wedding from attendants to shoes, but this was one thing she absolutely refused to have marring the thing her wedding was. A black lace dress only went so far, nothing could quite beautify standing on a carpet of expired raccoon. But…damn it…it wasn't that Tig didn't want Joss to be happy, he did whole heartedly…but he also really wanted Joss to be his wife…and if they had to stop and handle this raccoon thing, then it would just delay that happening. And Tig didn't want any more delays; he didn't want anything to deny him this chance to marry his sweet, perfect, dark angel in their own way. Any delay represented yet another chance for that to not happen, leaving Joss, and himself vulnerable to the foo-foo party Gemma'd been planning. Joss might survive that, but her heart wouldn't, and likely, neither would her relationship with Gemma if Gemma forced her to go through with it. Yeah, there was a lot riding on this little, creepy, broken down church wedding with the dead raccoon. What the hell was a foo-foo party? Whatever…besides the foo-foo party, he'd also been anxious to get Joss to Saint Thomas's before she had another attack of whatever it was that was attacking her. Tig just couldn't shake the feeling that on top of something being wrong, that it was going to get worse. But, a delay had befallen this wedding after all…but it was kind of his fault, he'd intended to be discreet in squashing that maggot…oops, fucking, heavy soled Harley boots…that had already drawn the ceremony out unnecessarily longer than Tig wanted it to be, and now this! He just wanted to hear Bobby say "man and wife!"

"Seriously?" Bobby was saying instead, "you're going to make the girl stand there?" Bobby was staring at Tig over the rims of his glasses a la schoolmarm versus a kid wearing a dunce cap in the corner. He clearly expected more out of Tig as Joss's husband to be…fuck…Bobby fuckin' loved Joss, and if Bobby was giving Tig a look like that, then Clay damn sure was too…probably Opie as well…oh hell no, don't go there…just fix the situation!

Without a word or another frustrated look, Tig reached forward and grabbed Joss with both his hands securely between her hips and ribcage, stepped close and lifted her quickly off the spot where that lump of raccoon had been, then pivoted half way around, putting her gently back down in the place he'd been standing, and resuming the place where she had stood…in the dead animal. There, that seemed to have soothed some of the disagreeing countenances that had surrounded him, and Joss was smiling again…looking up at him with that perfection in a black lace dress smile, she was so grateful he'd finally understood how she wanted nothing to tarnish her wedding to him. Tig couldn't help smiling back at her, put so at ease by that vision of her, and when he removed his hands from her body, she was fast to catch them both and hold them in her own. There, now they were steadied, no more anything that diminished how extraordinary this moment was, no more nervous laughter, no more anxiety over how this wedding could fall through and leave them to be Gemma's victims. All there was now was Tig and Joss and the uncontrollable intensity of their love for each other. It was amazing what just a little bit of contact between them could do.

Chapter 33; Part 2

Tig had left his hand print in her right side…Joss could feel it, the places where his digits had pressed into the angry tenderness which tried with all its might to make itself known to both of them, pushing back at Tig from inside of her, like it was trying to grasp one of Tig's fingers to once again quiet itself with. If only she hadn't noticed that maggot, Tig never would have had to pick her up like he had; the pressure of his strong hands never would have awakened the thing taking up such punishing residence in her side. Joss stood strong, rebellious of the waxing throb and dull pounding; she looked at her man because he was all she had to banish the ache that was creeping forward. His eyes, she looked into them until it seemed every dirty, paint bubbled wall of Evermore was veiled in their ice blue. Tig wouldn't want her to be in pain, not now, and knowing that he wouldn't was as good as him telling her not to feel that pain now, and Joss didn't, just took a deep breath and slowly let it out again, forcing that ache to cry itself back to sleep. There, she'd done it, she was learning how to care for it; she just had to keep it up, through her wedding, and through however long afterwards it was going to take.

Her wedding…the inside of Evermore held no surprises, it was grubby, dank and doing its best to still qualify as being "inside." There were perhaps as many dead leaves within the deserted church as there were outside, but Tig's brothers had swept them to the sides, making a little pathway for everyone to walk down, and clearing a place around the altar. Cobwebs wafted gracefully from corners, windows, from any structure they could have been secured to. There were three, small, uncomfortable looking pews, dust, dirt and dead leaves their current parishioners, pushed up against the walls, walls that were shedding paint like it was an old skin. The altar was modest, like a large wooden porch with a low wooden railing around it, each spindle of it looked hand carved, narrow at their tops and bottoms, but wide and rounded in the middle, another hand carved wooden cross finial atop each one. Between two of the spindles was a bird's nest, little bits of speckled egg shells lying forgotten in the small accumulation of sticks and mud, more evidence of how Evermore lived.

The pulpit, where Bobby stood, was placed in the center of the porch like altar, and three now warped steps were on either side. Framing Bobby were two large stained glass windows, one still boarded up, the other mostly destroyed, but chards of deep purple and blue and gold glass cut into the belly of the night air as it crept inside. Around them, from the antique ceiling beams, hung three utility lights, swaying in the night air like industrial strength chandeliers. Behind Bobby, in the murky space of bare stucco, once likely reserved for a painting, or carving or some heartfelt rendition of the Lord, was now a freshly hung Reaper banner. Evermore was ghostly to most, but tonight, it was warm and flourishing, a building that had lived it's later years as something so intimidating and scary looking, now welcoming and greedily sheltering those who dared to be so close. Gemma's wedding would never have come close to this, finally things had fallen into the places Joss had dreamed they would the moment she'd accepted Tig's proposal.

Tig, he'd remembered wedding things that Joss made herself forget about wanting because Gemma had said, "No!" The CD player was set on "repeat," a soft cascade of "Whiter Shade of Pale" enhancing the background of every moment she shared with her man in front of the battered altar, the lyrics of the song likely making no sense to anyone but her…a song about a night's drunken debauchery, the lady being pursued rejecting her male suitor, but finally giving into the beauty of ecstasy. The song didn't fit her and Tig in a literal sense at all, but it was still perfect for them. They were like the two drunken lovers who were only capable of securing a cheap thrill, but a cheap thrill that became legend, described in the language of poets. She and Tig were two fucked up individuals that shouldn't have ever been able to understand what love was, let alone have it grow into something so dominant and intrepid that it was a legend itself.

Joss smiled more; felt her heart beat a little faster as she stood there across from Tig, both her hands in his, a slight breeze peeking in through the holes in the roof, rippling the fringe on both her dress and her patch and tousling her hair. Tig's hand left hers for a moment, reaching up and gently smoothing her hair back into place, moving the red tails of it back over her shoulder then once again taking her hand as perfection melted over them. This was perfect, their version of it, right down to the maggot and the raccoon…add to that how Tig switching places with her was now causing Clay and Opie to have to step awkwardly around behind each other so that they both shadowed their appropriate charge. Joss's face wrinkled with a hint of laughter as she watched Tig roll his eyes at Ope who finally moved into place again, practically able to hear her man's thoughts…"stupid Chewbadooba, where the hell ya been?"

"Are we set?" Bobby asked looking at all four of them, making sure everyone was done moving around. "Or would you like me to find three chairs and watch you all compete for them when the music stops?"

Again the small congregation laughed, Tig and Joss sharing one more eager smile between themselves before Tig turned to Bobby. "Yeah," he said, his hands squeezing hers a bit, and Joss knew just what his next words would be. Tig was calmer, he didn't seem to be rushing things out of trepidation any longer, but now both of them longed to share a last name. "Pick it up at the 'Do you…' parts."

Bobby's eyes shifted from Tig to Joss and then seemed to settle on the excitement between them. "Hmm," he half laughed, half harrumphed, looking mildly evil. "You got the license with you right? Cuz this is just words if you didn't bring it, brother."

"Yeah, I got it, it's in my cut, just go!" Tig replied, sounding more like a little kid in desperate want of a new toy than he sounded angry or annoyed. "Go!" He further urged; giving his and Joss's joined hands an emphasizing swing.

"Okay then," Bobby sighed, but couldn't hide his ornery smile. He flipped to the next page in his little, black text, then cleared his throat, almost began to read aloud again then stopped short. "Question," he said to Tig, and his finger marked some line of some paragraph within the text, which he tilted down for Tig to view. "Are we saying that little, four letter, 'L' word right there?"

"Fuck no!" Tig replied forcefully, and Joss laughed, feeling so fortunate at this moment. Gemma would have found a way to force Tig into saying "love," but if Tig said that, then it for sure would not have been their wedding at all!

Bobby nodded, like he wasn't surprised. "Alright," he gathered the text back in front of himself again, repositioned his glasses on his face, and then after a breath, let loose with the voice of an orator. "Do you, Alexander 'Tig' Trager, take Josselyn, to be your lawful wife? Do you promise to protect her, to be good to her in sickness and in health, to…to…honor and cherish her for all the days of your life?"

"Yeah," how quickly and casually Tig answered was a little shocking, Joss was expecting him to do some hemming and hauling, maybe argue down a vow or two, but no, just like that, he'd made his pledge. Wow…this was actually happening…now! Oh no, not back to that again…but Joss couldn't help it, Tig had said he'd take her as his lawful wife! Oh God! The actuality of it was like a hefty rock thrown into the pool of her composure, the ripples it created suddenly making her body begin to shake with her joy…oh God! Oh no, this was the most crucial moment of this wedding, the vows, and Joss was falling apart, dissolving into some happy little dust that felt like it was near to blowing around the church on the easiness of the breeze. But that's when Tig looked at her, looked right at her, gasped a little, and with his hands over hers so tightly that she could feel every thump of his heart through his touch, he somehow steadied her all over again. "All that and more, baby." He whispered on a somewhat hoarse voice, "All that and more."

His words were like a sponge wringing out his love inside her heart, Joss felt herself unable to draw a deep enough breath and her eyes began to tear up one more time. Her stare couldn't be moved from him now, the untamed, black hair, the lucid blue of his eyes, the goatee over the square jaw, strong shoulders, broad chest, that was heaving just a bit with what his own words had let loose within him. Her man had been branded as "heartless" years ago, but that wasn't so at all; Tig, it was never that he could feel, it was that he could feel everything…everything. God she loved that man, and Joss suddenly realized she was leaning towards him, hungering to kiss him, now. Tig could tell what she wanted, he'd always been able to feel that on the air, and though he'd never been big on kissing her around his brothers, he was also leaning slowly towards her, but right then, Bobby began speaking again.

Bobby looked relieved that he wouldn't have to altar the words in front of him this time. "Do you, Josselyn Inez Morrow, take Tig, to be your lawful husband? Do you promise to obey him, to be good to him in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish him for all the days of your life?"

A smile burst through her features. "I do," she proudly proclaimed, her eyes all over Tig, every part of him, the possessive passion between them at high tide. "And so much more," she said to Tig and no one else, the twitch of his lips as they pulled back into another smile making her pulse race. "And so much more."

"Hmm," Bobby sort of moaned, as though mulling over the correctness of their answers, but it was soon obvious that Bobby and Clay were both sharing some sort of laugh. "So, we got a ring or anything?" Bobby asked, as if out of plain curiosity.

At that, Opie nervously stepped forward, trying so hard to not look at Joss as his hand dug around within the inner pocket of his cut. Ope…had Joss not been so overwhelmed by the suddenness of her wedding, she'd have been feeling badly about how Opie was forced to participate in this, he didn't look at all comfortable, or happy. This really wasn't fair to him, none of it was…poor Ope…but, what could Joss do? Wait, there was a ring? Tig had conceded and gotten her a ring like Gemma had ordered? Damn it…somehow, even though Gemma wasn't here running things, the queen's demands were still being met? Ope continued to grope within his pocket, still searching for what had been his assigned duty to take care of, but just as Ope's fingers seemed to find it, Tig groaned and spun around to Bobby like he suddenly remembered something.

"Fuck!" Tig grunted as he too reached into the inner pocket of his cut, pulling out a folded up, half piece of paper. "I forgot, I wrote something, for the vows!"

There was a collective gasp of astonishment from everyone present, including Joss. Wow, Tig had done what? He was so against writing their own vows when they'd discussed it around Gemma's dining room table all those nights ago…what could he have possibly thought of to say…that he would say in front of his brothers? Bobby was nodding; in fact, everyone was nodding, just dying to hear the vows that their SAA had come up with. "Go ahead," Bobby invited, and with that, gave Tig the floor.

Tig shook off some imaginary rust then turned back towards Joss, who was still trying to prepare to hear whatever her man had written, but before she truly was ready to receive it, Tig was off and reading. "Joss," he began, pausing like there was a lot more to follow. "I'll try my best, but I can't promise shit." Around them eyes grew wide, everyone waiting for there to be more, waiting for Joss to be angry or cry, but she had no such reaction. In fact, she was the only one not shocked, she was actually beginning to laugh, Tig…God she loved him! Then Tig continued, but he looked kind of flustered with himself as he did, like he didn't really remember writing the next thing he'd come to. "Tig," he read aloud, and then looked up at Joss with his usual annoyed face. "Why the hell'd I sign this?" He asked her as he threw the half piece of paper on the dusty floor.

There was a lot of laughing around them again, but Tig didn't seem too bothered by that, and Joss, well, all she could do was smile up at and ask, "Why the hell'd you have to write it down?" Which created more laughter, including Tig's…her man…he'd been as honest as he could have been, had always tried to never promise her anything in fear of letting her down, because letting her down was one thing he couldn't live with. The vows he'd written were the most heartfelt, and perfect, thing for him to have said to her at their wedding, he'd try, but he wouldn't promise. No other bride would have understood, and no other bride would have been so touched by it either.

The not so subtle sound of someone clearing their throat soon broke up the jocularity and it became apparent that Opie hadn't found any of that funny, or touching. He looked like he just wanted this to be over with, to be out of it, to be driving one hundred miles an hour away from this old, broken down church, trying to forget he'd witnessed any of it. Poor Ope…he was now pulling something from the pocket in his cut, his one raised eyebrow giving Bobby the nudge he required to return to the ceremony. "Yeah," Bobby sighed as he collected himself and wiped at his brow, then raised the little, black text again, "the ring," he said as he searched the words on the page, "the ring…"

"Hey," Tig interrupted, already holding his hand out to Ope. "I got this one, too." He said to Bobby, who again backed off as Opie dropped something into Tig's hand. Tig quickly concealed it from Joss's view and looked down at it for what seemed like a long time. He nodded to himself a few times, and when he looked up at her, she could tell he was feeling something he didn't want to be feeling, like he was caught half way between wanting to do this ring thing, and wanting to just call them married now. He sucked in a breath as if to strengthen himself then finally spoke. "Joss," his voice wavered a little, his free hand shook a bit as he lifted her hand towards him, turning it supine. What was he about to do? He hadn't been this out of sorts when he'd begun to read those vows! "You were born the day I earned this," Tig said as he gently laid something metal and pointed into her palm, a piece of woven fabric attached to it, and when Joss finally stopped shaking enough to look at her hand, she found that she was holding his Bronze Star, from Mogadishu. Oh God! "You've earned it every day since," Tig told her as he closed her hand around it, having to get another deep breath and hold onto her hand so that his own would stop its quivering. No wonder he was so nervous, he didn't like to talk about Africa, or this award that he'd always said was a "piece of shit"…or the fact that it really had meant something to him after all. "It's yours now," he finally said, and heaved a relieved sigh, dropping his hands to his sides and looking up at Evermore's inconsistent ceiling.

Joss's knees buckled, the metal in her hand felt so heavy, but then it was, just not in any measurable weight. The bronze was still warm from the heat of Tig's hand like he truly had given her a piece of himself and now a tear did breach the levees Joss had been strengthening since arriving here. She wasn't the only one though, Tig was exhaling and blinking like he was just barely in control, and the face of every military veteran around them also shined with tiny, little, wet streaks. Cut diamonds and bands of gold had never been as worthless as they were at this moment, because Joss now held her most precious of all her worldly goods. Tig's Bronze Star…the only touchable proof he owned of how he exceeded the highest of expectations…he'd given it to her! Oh God…she wanted to say something, to speak some mash of words that would likely not come close to explaining how she'd love this star the way she loved him, how she'd never go anywhere without it, how overrun with accolade and love she felt to be holding it, but there weren't any words in any language that could contain how extreme all those feelings were.

Tig was slowly climbing out of the emotional rush of it all, pulling Joss with him up that slope, he knew they had to get themselves straightened out, they had to have their wits about them, because this was it, this was the moment they'd been clawing their way towards for months now...this wedding was drawing towards its unifying close. Joss felt her hands surrounded the strong grip of Tig's again, and she looked up at him, tears drying on her cheeks, and the fiercest look in his eyes, but far from mean; more like he was seconds from earning another Bronze Star all over again. He meant this, as if she'd had any lingering doubts, but he was telling her with no words needed that he meant this, she was going to be his wife, not just his old lady, not just his property, and he'd love her forever.

The star was locked securely inside Joss's hand, Tig's fingers actually helping to keep it there with his hand wrapped over hers, and then Bobby's hand suddenly blanketed their joining. "By the power vested in me by the Church of Universal Ministries, the state of California and with the blessing and congratulations of Sons of Anarchy Redwood California," Bobby paused a bit, why? Was this some attempt at tantalization? No, don't stop there! Joss's hand tightened as Tig's tightened around hers…oh come on, she'd already put down one urge to kiss her man, she didn't have the strength to do it again…Tig, that serious, sincere, wild look in his eyes…she wanted to kiss him! And she was getting nearer to Tig, felt herself leaning over, realizing that was because Tig had all but taken her in his arms, so restless in this latest pause, about to do things his way. The distance between them was only centimeters in no time, but a split second before Tig's lips overtook hers, Bobby finally hoisted a fist into the air jubilantly and declared, "I now pronounce you man and wife!"

Tig had never felt so big and strong, Joss's hands on his shoulders as he crushed her to him, her lips supple against the demands of his, willing and hungry, fervently giving him all he wanted from her as he took her over, making the cheers and sounds of hands patting him on the back disappear into the nothingness that was not her man…that was not her husband. She was his, more than only her patch said so now…she was his wife! Joss had never imagined feeling so safe, knowing she was so loved, or being so happy…but…no…oh please, God, no…the pain, it had ambushed her, stretching to the end of its tether within her.

Maybe it was the heady excitement of being recently wed, or the unfairness of having that bliss cut so short, but Joss couldn't concentrate this time, she couldn't make it stop, it just kept going, something vicious inside cranking away like a psychotic meat grinder, and then the agony suddenly broke free inside her with the cruelest supremacy and power it had ever been able to muster. Tig held her tightly, but it wasn't enough to stop something ripping open inside of her, slashing her apart with the devil's fire, making her blood gush like a rain bloated river. She felt her life beginning to drain away within her; she was hurting, she was weakening, she was losing the fight to stay on her feet. In only a few seconds the light was robbed from eyes, the strength was robbed from her body and she was soon a collapsed, limp, unconscious thing in Tig's arms, robbed of her happiest moment in life.


	34. Aba Daba Honeymoon

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 34

I was the first to see it happen, standing right there behind Tig. Joss's eyes flew wide open like a rabbit's before it tears off from a fox, but she was still imprisoned in the grip of Tig's embrace, and then her chin tipped upwards, like she was surfacing from a torrential sea, struggling for a breath. And then, she was just…gone. Her wide green eyes rolled back and then fell closed again, that fair skin of hers going white…stark white! Donna…it was the same, but different. God damn it, what had Trager done to her? Choked her? I was the first one to Joss, the fact that my hands were all over the shoulders and the back of the head of a patched and married woman nowhere in my brain. All I knew was that something bad had gone down, it was serious, and if someone didn't get there in time, she was going to hit this rancid, old floor, hard. Joss needed help, she needed a doctor, now, and I was only seconds from picking her up and rushing her to the van that we'd brought all the lights and radios in. I was taking her to the hospital, I was going to get her help; I wasn't going to leave her side until I knew she was okay again. I wouldn't let Joss do to me what Donna had done to me…what Tig had done to me…it wouldn't happen again, it wouldn't!

But I didn't get the chance to act, the whole club rained down from above. I can't make any sense of what went on after that, there were just too many people involved and a lot being said, even if it was all the same thing. Everyone was around Joss, and me and Tig, because we both about collapsed with her, her pallid, blank face at my knees, her head in the care of both my hands, and Tig knelt down over top of her, his hands fettered to her shoulders, shaking her and calling her name with a vengeance, like she was going to be in some real trouble if she didn't get back inside herself and sit up. The idiot…what the hell was he thinking? The same shit he was thinking the night he pulled the trigger on Donna?

I had to make myself stop thinking about that, stop thinking like that. All that mattered to me right now was Joss, and I'd have to work with whoever it took to get her to the hospital, even if that turned out to be Tig…but if he'd just have made her get a more thorough exam, or was more careful with her due to how she'd not been feeling well, maybe she wouldn't be lying there like…no, that's not helping either…I really should just drive, I was speeding down Evermore's little dirt road in the van, on the way to Saint Thomas's, and Tig was in the empty back cargo area with Joss, holding her to him, his arms around her shoulders and her back to his chest as he talked softly, but rapidly to her, and intermittently yelled to me that I wasn't going fucking fast enough.

"You want me to flip this fucking thing?" I finally yell back at him, but I never take my eyes off the road or my foot off the accelerator. Couldn't he feel all the ruts and rocks and sharp corners we were flying into? "I wish this damn thing was a jet, but it's not, and I'm doing the best I can!"

"Jesus Christ!" Tig was yelling next, shifting enough in the back, while holding onto Joss, so that he faced me in the rearview mirror and I could clearly see the angry, lunatic snarl on his face. "Just get to the main road, that's all I fucking care about right now!"

"That's my goal, asshole!" I shout back, still glaring at his reflection, and wishing I could somehow reach back there and twist his God damn head off…he's my brother, yeah, hell, he's my future Pres, but somehow, this is his fault, he has a thing for killing the women I love. Jesus…here I am, rushing his wife to the hospital, trying to save her life, but that night…when he could see it wasn't me he'd shot in the back of the head, did he even try to do the same for Donna? Shit…there it was, the reason I kept feeling like somehow Tig was at fault for all of this, and now it was out there, it was in every thought I was having, somehow Donna and Joss were both dependent on me to help, to save them…and I had to do it, because no one else could.

Tig's curses and cusses blew from the back of the van with volcanic fury, but I couldn't hear any of them, there were far worse feelings swarming me and filling up the places where any hope of Joss coming out of this okay were hiding. How was it even possible that in my mind, Donna was still my wife, but Joss…I was in love with her. I wasn't even sure anymore which one of them I was trying to get to Saint Thomas's, I was just driving, foot on the floor, now on the main road, passing any vehicle that was ignorant enough to be ahead of me, counting every strip of asphalt that was getting her closer to help.

We were almost to Saint Thomas's when Tig's mumbling in the back was abruptly silenced by a loud, sharp, exhalation of breath, like something unearthly had just been awakened. I glanced upwards into the rearview and the first thing I saw were eyes, Joss's eyes, open wide again and…glowing green, like she was conscious, but hardly herself, like she was about to…oh shit…June Stahl…

Chapter 34; Part 2

"No Joss," Tig pleaded, but he could tell there was no stopping this, she'd passed the point of being talked down, and she was beginning to struggle with him, trying to get herself free, but he held her tighter and tighter…but he knew that the moment was soon on the rise when holding her still would result in being on the receiving end of those nails and teeth, her fingers were already curled into the infamous claws. Damn it…he was scared as hell for her, all his thoughts were consumed with how she'd been his…but for only a blink of an eye in this world…Jesus fucking Christ, Joss couldn't die! He hated it when that damn girl scared him, because she had the power to scare him more than anything else in the world did, and when she'd just gone to nothing in his arms, she was really really abusing that power. And now this…as if being scared shitless about her health wasn't enough, Joss was losing it, just didn't have what it took to hold it together anymore. Tig didn't need this now, and Joss really didn't need it…she had to lie still; he knew what it looked like when someone was bleeding out, and Jesus Christ, that's just how Joss had looked when she'd passed out at the church, her skin ashen and cold, breathing shallow, pulse weak. It must have been pure adrenaline fueling the spider monkey to come forth, but his sweet, dark, angel couldn't afford to be slashing and thrashing around under its control, she'd rip herself apart! But her body was quaking against his hold, trembling as the monkey shredded its way further to the surface, her head slamming back against Tig's chest with more and more vicious intent, her neck straining to turn to the left or right, her teeth bared. "C'mon, baby, please," Tig whispered against her tangled black hair, doing whatever he could to keep her from getting loose…it wouldn't be good if she got loose in such a small space, not for anyone. "Don't do it," he begged her, knowing that Ope likely could hear everything, but this wasn't a time to be worried about looking like his old lady didn't know her place. "Don't go there, please…just stay with me, Joss…just stay with me…"

"What the hell happened?" Ope yelled and almost sounded like he didn't really know, but one split second glance at his eyes in the rearview gave away the recognition in them…Ope remembered, he'd seen Joss go spider monkey, he knew where this could go. Shit…how the fuck had this happened…that was a better question. It had started when Joss actually began to pink up a little, and her eyes opened with a dazed flutter, and she'd been looking up at Tig, who was looking down at her, telling her it was "alright," but it wasn't soon after that. Her first, faintly voiced question had been if they were married, and Tig had laughed a little, telling her yes, and telling her to just be still.

"Why?" She'd asked him next, her memory obviously missing some chunks…that Tig shouldn't have filled in for her.

"It's okay, baby. You're sick; we're getting you to the hospital. You'll be fine." She'd been so feeble in his arms, like she was barely strong enough to draw breath; Tig hadn't been holding her very tightly…

Joss's eyes about bulged out of her head and Tig felt the adrenaline bolt forth within her like hitting the nitro in an eight second car. "No!" She yelled and tried to sit up, but he held her back as best he could, choking up on his grip, knowing there was more to come. "No!" she yelled again, but in no time she wasn't yelling anything that was comprehensible, it was just that horrible, high pitched wailing of the spider monkey. Holy hell, for as scared as Tig was, Joss was one hundred times as scared…terrified…so scared it broke her down, so scared she needed the protection of the monkey…Christ…yeah, the girl knew what that pain in her side was, Tig had suspected she might for some time now…but whatever it was, she'd obviously decided it was too awful to let anyone know what it was…particularly her husband.

"What happened?" Opie yelled for a second time, barely able to be heard over Joss's screeching and wailing, but it must have been his own love for Joss that pushed his voice over the monkey's insanity. The look in Ope's eyes could have flayed Tig open, "Say something, God damn it!"

"Shut the fuck up and drive!" Tig bellowed back, he was dealing with more than enough at the moment, more than he'd ever dealt with in any foxhole, that was for sure, and Joss's adrenaline ignited crazy was only gaining in power. She'd dug her elbows into his ribs and managed to push herself up against him, mouth open wide, lips pulled back over those teeth as she fought to have her arms free to slash away at whatever she could get a hold of. Joss's head was inching higher on his shoulder, one slight little turn of her neck and she'd have his throat…shit…a new fear iced through Tig…he'd felt those claws dig in deep before, he still wore the oval scar on his forearm from where those teeth had tried their damndest to take a piece out of him…he had to do something, and not just for Joss's protection anymore.

Holding her still was more than a struggle now and Tig had to lean his head and neck as far away from hers as he could, but craning his neck like that turned out to be beneficial. Not only could the spider monkey not rip those teeth through his throat, but he'd been able to see an old, rusted set of broomstick drag bars that had been left in the van from one of the myriads of bike shows and swaps. Even better, a torn quarter of a moving blanket was laying under the drag bars. But how did he get to them? He was barely securing Joss with both arms, trying it with only one would be a disaster. But he needed those old handle bars…they were the only salvation in the back of this van.

"Do something!" Ope was staunchly demanding and half begging, his wide eyes reflected in the rearview mirror and they were fixed on Joss. "Help her!"

God fucking damn it! What did Ope think Tig was trying to do? But he was one guy, up against madness, in the back of a van! Wait…"Swerve left!" Tig all of a sudden screamed to Ope like the van was seconds away from crashing into something. "Swerve!" Tig roared again, his eyes already on the drag bars and the worn scrap of moving blanket, praying that Opie wouldn't ask why, or be primed to argue about it. But finally and for once, Ope was silent.

The van arced to the left at about eight miles an hour, violently lurching like a tire or two had left the road and when it did, Joss was flung sideways into a heap that was under the control of the momentum, giving Tig the chance he needed to grab the handle bars and quickly wrap the piece of moving blanket around the center of them…but the van was on course once again, and Joss was sitting up…free of Tig's grip.

Her head jerked spastically around at him, her teeth clenched for the moment as the monkey still howled, but Tig knew what would come…he just had to wait for it, and nail it on the first go. "What the hell are you doing?" There was more concern lighting Ope's voice now, he was looking at Tig raising the blanket wrapped drag bars in front of himself, "Jesus, don't kill her!" But Tig ignored Ope's plight, because he saw Joss's mouth opening, and all at once, she lunged at him, wail blaring and teeth glaring, but before she could connect with any part of him, Tig thrust the padded center of the drag bars into her gaping mouth, disabling her bite and scrambling behind her, lucking into how his arms came over and around hers, locking the swinging claws down at Joss's sides, and pulling her head tightly back against his chest with the drag bars clamped in her mouth.

Somehow, he'd done it…the monkey was contained, its high pitched screams muffled by the moving blanket, that also protected Joss's teeth from any damage…Tig didn't want to hurt her after all…and thankfully, she was calming, settling, the psychological mutiny within her giving way to exhaustion…at least, he hoped it was just exhaustion, and not another bleed…please, she couldn't be dying…she just couldn't be! But she was still breathing, hard and fast, but she was quiet, and limp all over again…feeling her body relax like that chilled him to the bone…he'd been so sure she'd died in his arms at Evermore. But no, not then, not now…she was out of it, away from the fear and the fight. "Good girl," he whispered, out of breath himself as he let go of the drag bars and pulled them from between her clenched teeth. "It'll be okay, baby, whatever it is."


	35. Shotgun

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 35

"What?" Tig's at a complete loss, like he's never heard the words before or something, and I actually wouldn't want to be him right now, even if it would mean that Joss was mine. Tig and me…what the hell was I doing trying to bury the hatchet with him? Hatchet…he'd probably just go dig it up someday and take out someone else I loved with it. It's not over and it's not going to end well between him and me…it's just not. And Joss, she's square in the middle of it, through no fault of her own. Anyway, as much I really and truly wouldn't want to be dwelling on what Tig was currently dwelling on, I'd hate to be poor Tara even more; she may have divorced the club socially, but her name was still the first thing we yelled whenever we barreled into this emergency room. Tara…I'd known her in high school too, she sure turned out a lot different than any of the other girls I begged test answers off of. She really should have stayed clear of Jax, because now she was caught up in the middle of this whole Jax thing and therefore seen as part of that betrayal. But when we needed her, we needed her…and she was the one tasked with explaining Joss's condition and treatment to Tig…who sat there with a grimace on his face, like he knew Tara was feeding him a line of bullshit.

Tara sighed, she was smart enough to know that going through it all again wasn't going to make Tig understand it any better; he was a lot of things, but he wasn't completely stupid…just mostly. A lot of things had occurred to me in the fifteen minute dash to Saint Thomas's, and one thing was for sure; I was here for Joss, not Tig…not even a little. Joss had her moments of…well, I don't know what to call that, I'd never even seen anything like that before knowing her…and God damn it, but Tig dealt with it better than anyone else likely could have, even if I didn't like the way he did it. But yeah, Joss, she was worth sitting here, suffering her old man's retarded grasp of what was wrong with her. How could he not understand, it was very simple, but Tig wasn't getting it, he was in a gear even higher than ordinary denial of it, he flat out looked as though Tara was telling him the world really was flat, and he'd just shut down on her. Nope, repeating it wasn't going to help, his reaction was all shock, it was clearly the last thing he'd ever expected to hear, and it just had to sink in. Even though it hadn't yet, Tara pushed onwards, "As soon as she's stabilized a little bit more, they're taking her into surgery. We'll know the extent of any damage then, but she's going to need a lot of blood, that we already know."

The rest of the club was arriving, coming into the waiting room and heading over to the three of us. They'd want news, no, they'd expect news; Clay's face looked nearly as white as Joss's had gone, and Bobby was racing him over to where everyone expected information to be had. But Tig was still sitting their dumbfounded, like everything he'd heard tonight was in some alien tongue. Shit, if I didn't start asserting myself here, as the level and cool headed one, no one was going to know anything…Tara had to go, she'd been paged away from scrubbing up for surgery, she had a kid on a table to save. Besides, I couldn't take not knowing anymore myself; I couldn't lose Joss, even if I didn't actually have her. I look carefully at Tig, but he's still pretty much out of it, mystified as to how any of this could be true, and then I take a liberty that I know isn't mine to take. I looked at Tara, "so, is she going to make it?"

Again Tara sighed, like she was trying to get the usual words in a more positive sounding order. "Well," she said, glancing at Tig, but he was staring off somewhere that wasn't here. She looked at me alone. "If we get the bleeding stopped and new blood circulating, yes." But I can tell she felt like maybe that she was giving me false hope. "But there's an awful lot of blood in her belly, Ope. I'm not qualified to be making a call here, only the OB/GYN surgeon is, and he won't be able to until he opens her up."

"Damn," I sigh and shake my head, feeling so heavy. It wasn't that I expected a for sure locked in "yes," but I'd wanted one…I'd really wanted one! And then I started fishing, "you seen a lot of women die from this?"

Tara smiled sadly at me, she knew what I was doing, and I could tell that Jax had filled her in regarding my feelings for Joss, because she doesn't seem the least bit surprised that I'm asking so many questions about Tig's old lady. "I know that Joss and I sort of…fell out, and that was my fault," she began and looked regretful, and then she further surprised me when she took my hand, giving me some strange impression that she wished she could somehow renounce herself and once again return to our fold. "But I also know Joss is…unlike most people I know, let alone most women I know. She's strong, she's got a lot fight in her," and at that description, Tara's eyes once again consider Tig. "I think her chances here are pretty good; she's Joss, she can handle a lot of things."

Chapter 35; Part 2

"Look, I did what I could to stop them, okay? But, they took out your spleen."

"Do you know where it is?"

"I can go check."

That was the last conversation they'd had at Saint Thomas's, Joss laying in a hospital bed, still so groggy and loopy from the long surgery and anesthesia. Butcher had messed her up bad that time…but Tig had messed Butcher up a lot worse! Tig had been worried about Joss then, sat there for hours beside her bed, having intimidated his way into being the only visitor allowed in ICU. He'd been so not himself that night, he was so upset that he didn't have the strength to obey everything inside of him that told him not to hold Joss's hand.

That had been one of the roughest nights of his life, fighting for Joss in whatever way he could to make her eyes open, but also fighting himself…God fucking damn it but he didn't want to love that damn girl…but it was too late to win that contest, he'd loved Joss since he met her. All of it had seemed so impossible, from her living through it, to him actually loving her, but it had been possible…in some weird, twisted way, it also made sense. Sense; what Tig wouldn't give for a few ounces of that sitting here in Saint Thomas's right now. But none came, despite how he inwardly begged it to. His brothers were around him, hands supportively gripping his shoulders as they sighed and said something about how they knew Joss would be okay, then condolences would be offered, but Tig couldn't respond, felt like he was watching and hearing them from the inside of some kind of big jar, with the lid screwed on tightly. His brothers were with him through this time of need, but Tig wasn't with them…hell, it wasn't like any of them could explain this impossible thing either.

Eight years old, that's how old Joss was supposed to have been when she died, shot by her asshole, perversely sadistic father as he raped her with the muzzle of a loaded twenty-two. Doctors couldn't get her to stop bleeding then either, had to remove the organs that would have been the place where a child could grow…Joss couldn't get pregnant, Joss couldn't be pregnant! But that didn't stop doctor bitch from sitting right there in the seat across from him, showing him some test paper with a plus sign in one of the columns, and telling him that in spite of everything he knew, his Joss, his beautiful, sweet, dark, perfect wife, had his kid growing inside her.

"The pregnancy is ectopic," doctor bitch had gone onto explain, but it was like all her words just bounced off of him, they wouldn't stick, they couldn't, because Joss couldn't be pregnant! Doctor bitch…what the fuck did she know? This was probably just some new ploy to drive some kind of wedge between Joss and him, just like the last time doctor bitch had sat down and explained things to him where Joss was concerned. Tig was listening, but only to hear where her story hiccupped, on alert to any hint of what doctor bitch's motives were this time for making shit up about Joss. She had to making this up…Joss couldn't be pregnant! But still doctor bitch pressed on, saying it again and again. "Based on the ultrasound we did, there was no way for it not to be ectopic. It looks like Joss had some kind of partial hysterectomy, likely years ago. I don't know the circumstances, but it appears that both her ovaries were left behind initially, but one was later removed. Based on the amount of scar tissue in the remaining ovary, I'm thinking that was possibly why. But no uterus and a scarred up tube with lots of nooks and crannies for a fertilized egg to hide in is a recipe for an ectopic implantation." She could tell that Tig was numbed by this, but what she couldn't possibly have understood was that Joss couldn't be pregnant! "Tig," she sighed and for a moment actually tried to pick up his hand and hold it, but then thought better of it. Good! "I'm sorry to be the one telling you all of this, and I don't even know what's news to you and what's not, but," doctor bitch glanced at Opie, like she was begging for his help on this, but Ope was smart enough to stay the fuck out of shit he didn't know about that time. "The pregnancy isn't viable, in fact, the developing embryo has caused Joss's last remaining fallopian tube to rupture, and now she's bleeding internally. We have to do surgery, but it'll mean that…that she'll lose the baby."

Loet the baby…lose the baby…the spider monkey…where had that come from? Yeah, he knew very well what kinds of things broke it loose, but why would Joss knowing there was a baby…assuming it was even possible for there to be a baby, be so violently afraid of Tig finding out about it? Fuck…how many times had he joked, or been truly spooked and asked her, "You're not knocked up, are you?" Shit, he wasn't ready for that, he wasn't even ready to be in love with that damn girl, he didn't need a kid stacked on top of it all…but he never meant he'd…fuck, he didn't know what it meant he wouldn't do. He didn't want more children, he already had more than he had strength to think of in Dawn and Fawn. This thing, this relationship he had with Joss used to feel so fragile, and it was so strange to think that it used to feel that way at all, for the thing between them now kicked some serious ass! But back then…Jesus Christ, a kid on the way? Fuck, Tig couldn't have dealt with that. Maybe to Joss his fear and aggravation over the issue had translated into some kind of "knocked up is a deal breaker?" But…wait…the girl was eight years old when she'd been injured, none of that spine chilling, female plumbing, voodoo should ever have befallen her; he'd often thought of how great it was that his old lady was never on the rag…so…how'd Joss even know she was pregnant?

But she wasn't pregnant, she couldn't be pregnant! Damn, he really needed someone to come out here right now and tell him why Joss couldn't be pregnant…doctor bitch had gone already, but wasn't there another one around in this shithole place? Joss, pregnant? No way! It didn't happen, it wasn't possible…that pain in her side, it wasn't from their kid tearing her apart as it struggled to life.

The attention shifted briefly off of Tig and a chorus of congrats rang out over Happy as he walked smugly into the circle SAMCRO had formed in the waiting room. It was clear from that bursting with pride look on his ugly, mean face that Slinky Slinky Bitch had popped, she'd made Hap the proud papa of a…hmm, Tig had no idea what Hap had, a boy or a girl. But Hap had no idea of what had gone on to bring Joss here, and it soon showed.

"Hey, congratulations to you too, brother!" He said, increasing his own fervor with every word. He grabbed Tig's shoulder, giving it a shake. "Man, I always thought if you got married, we'd be talking about how it was open or closed casket!" He laughed, but soon realized that something was well out of sorts, no one was laughing, there were a lot of blank stares and clearing of throats, Clay finally speaking to update Hap…but Tig wasn't hearing any of it.

"Open or closed casket;" the words kept reverberating inside Tig's head…what had he done? He'd done a lot of weird, creepy, disgusting and dangerous shit is what he'd done…messed with a lot shit…what if…no, what he was thinking was ridiculous…wasn't it? But what was the only other explanation for everything that he'd have to face? That Joss was pregnant…that's what. No…it couldn't be that…Tig just wouldn't let it be that…he couldn't deal with it being that. No, there was no kid inside of Joss, tearing her apart…it was something else…something Tig likely had caught doing all the foul things he'd done, and whatever that little germ was, he'd inadvertently spread it to Joss! Yeah, that sounded much more like what had happened…there was no baby…it was this…yet to be indentified loco bacterial organism, or virus, that Tig had contracted from some Crow Eater, or some…something else. Christ, Joss could have anything! Shit! Something had to be done about this while it still could be! He was fully aware of how strange this next outburst was going to be, but it didn't deter him from jumping to his feet, rushing to the nurse's station with his sleeve rolled up and then shouting, "Where's Knowles? I need my blood tested! Now!"


	36. Transfusion

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 36

"Hey," Clay was right there waiting outside the doorway of the little room Tig had finally been taken back to with a phlebotomist…and a security guard. No one had taken Tig seriously as he'd stood there at the triage desk, shouting demands and holding his arm perfectly straight where it stuck out of the rolled up sleeve of the black, cowboy cut shirt he had on. He looked crazy, he knew he did, but he did most of the time, so he didn't care…looking back it was really the doofus way he had his arm held, fist squeezing veins to the surface, ready and prepped, like someone was just going to lean over the horseshoe shaped desk and pop a needle into a vessel then and there. No one had, of course. In fact, he was told thee different times to go sit down, or security would be called…yeah, like that was something to worry about, fuck security! Joss was in there maybe dying from some kinda bad shit he'd accidentally given her…he needed a blood test! Tig didn't budge, just kept on insisting that he see doctor bitch, until finally, the security officer who had been dispatched, advised that Dr. Knowles be paged again, in surgery. Upon hearing what the problem was, and with whom, doctor bitch shocked the hell out of Tig by agreeing, yes, his blood should be screened. Only doctor bitch probably said that out of some sick, stupid, clinical curiosity…she knew Tig's rep, Jax-hole told his old lady everything, doctor bitch was likely just dying to know what a guy like Tig had swimming around in the murky hell that was his blood. Whatever, a victory was a victory! Jax-hole…ha! But, the look on Clay's face when Tig rounded the corner out of the little room quickly smothered the tender buds of Tig's triumph. Clay grabbed the shoulder of Tig's shirt and spun around with him, pretty fast for an old man, and pinned Tig to the wall. "I'm not the one who usually has to ask this," he began, but then those cold, steely, blue eyes narrowed and his voice sounded more like a growl. "But what the fuck is the matter with you?"

There was way too much going on to be able to understand it all and Clay's reaction was just added into that big, crazy pile. "I don't know," Tig answered as honestly as the mass of confusion in his brain would allow. "They ain't looked at my blood yet, man!"

Clay's face screwed up into a more than frustrated look, "No, Jesus…" he sighed and let go of Tig as he stepped back, scowling at the floor and pounding a fist in its direction through the air. Then he sighed, got himself together again, and looked back at Tig. "Forget about the blood, your blood maybe labeled as a controlled, dangerous substance, but it's fine!" Tig was about to object, cuz there were loads of reasons why his blood wasn't "fine" and therefore, why Joss wasn't "fine" either, but Clay shook his head sharply and Tig was quiet, trying to figure him out. "I mean, what are you doing? You haven't said one God damn word, not even a peep about your wife pulling through this, and then you just start screaming for a blood test? What the hell, bro?"

Oh shit…well…okay, Tig hadn't been all he was supposed to have been being to Joss, or to the club for that matter. But…whoa…had he been knocked catatonic for a few minutes there? Maybe…he didn't really feel like he was…"in" what was happening around him until he charged the triage desk…fuck! But c'mon, he had a good reason, didn't he? "Clay," Tig finally said, eyes lowered and a sincere look of apology in his eyes that got more and more desperate as Tig realized more and more that he'd disappointed Clay…because he'd sort of abandoned Joss. "I never meant to…" damn, it was hard to talk with this lump in his throat…Joss, he really did want to be with her right now, "Joss still in surgery?"

"Yeah, they just took her up about ten minutes ago," Clay's voice was softer, but his eyes were still pissed. "You gonna be able to handle this? Or you wanna go home and let me and the boys handle it?" On the surface it sounded like a supportive gesture, but it wasn't, not at all, the edge that hung heavy in the king's tone made that very much understood.

Tig's head jerked up and his eyes met Clay's with a steadiness he'd lacked since Joss fainted. "I got it," he said confidently, a little bit of a territorial grunt edging his own tone, but it had to be there, to let Clay know that Tig wasn't about to step aside and let anyone else be who or what got Joss through this shit. "She's my old lady," Tig felt himself coming back to himself a little bit more now. "She's my wife; I'm not going anywhere!"

Clay's stare stayed hard, scrutinizing Tig for a long couple of seconds, but then he must have been satisfied. "Good," he said as though it was about damn time…and it was…passed it really. "Now what the hell is with all this shit about blood tests?"

Tig sighed and stood there shaking his head, for the first time in his life, feeling ashamed of his actions and deeds. "Man," he began and looked upwards at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember, but also forget, all the horrible acts he'd perpetrated in just the last year alone. "This hospital, the fucking doctors…they're trying to fix the wrong thing in Joss." Tig said, and tried not to be too flustered by the raised eyebrows and almost aggravated look on Clay's face. "You know what happened to her, I told you…what her shithole father did to her?"

"Tig," Clay sighed again, like this was all unfolding for him now, like it was making sense…good, someone understood…or so Tig thought. "The girl's been an emotional wreck lately that falls apart if she's not near you, she damn near danced a jig of joy because the big, white wedding dress piece of shit was somehow too small now, she's had pain in the side of her belly for weeks, and hell, we've all just seen a positive pregnancy test, and even held an ultra sound photo in our hands of what the problem is." Clay paused, stepping closer to Tig and grasping him by the shoulders firmly. "Son, she's pregn—"

"No, she isn't!" Tig was immediately arguing and stepped away from Clay's reach. "It's something else, something I think she caught from me…I've…been in some…dark holes," he said and it felt so strange to not want to admit that. "I'm probably loaded with shit that could hurt her! I did it, I gave it to her, we just need to find out what the fuck it is so she can get better, but if everyone is going to keep believing she's knoc—"

"Tig, the girl's pregnant, she is!" Clay cut him off brusquely and precisely. "That's what's wrong with her, that's what you did to her, that's what you gave her! And you're the one who has to believe it, now!"

Fuck, what the hell was this? Invasion of the Pod People, or some shit? Why did everyone think Joss was pregnant? She couldn't be pregnant! If she was pregnant, it might change things between them; it might mean the end of what they had together…doctor bitch had said that the baby was lost…lost…lost…the baby was gone, "not viable,"…it was dead. His Bronze Star, the day he'd earned it, the day Joss was born…the same day that kid…that little boy carrying those water containers…the scared, knowing look in his large brown eyes when he'd come upon the hiding place of American soldiers…crosshairs set squarely between little shoulder blades as he ran away…the baby was dead. Everything changed after the baby was dead…all the babies seemed dead, even the two Tig had come home to. No, Joss…please, please, please…she couldn't be pregnant!

"Tig," Clay was talking to him again, only this time he wasn't on his case, he sounded more fatherly than anything else, and he was also squatting down in front of Tig…that was weird…oh…shit, Tig had somehow slid down the wall and was now crouched on the floor, his back to the eggshell colored semi-gloss. Fuck…again? How long was he catatonic this time? Felt like maybe an hour. But Clay hadn't given up on him; he'd stayed right here, likely talking to him like he was now the whole time. "It'll be okay," the king was saying to him, tugging at his arms and hands and cut, trying to get Tig to stand once more, trying to snap him out of it like he knew exactly where Tig was trapped. And maybe Clay did, he'd been in combat before too, he knew what it was to come home and be the monster in his own nightmares. "It'll be okay, I swear it will be," he promised as he assisted Tig in rising from the heap he'd sunk into. "Just face this thing, and it'll be okay."

Face it? Face it? No, Tig couldn't face anymore dead babies; everything died with them, and he loved Joss so fucking much…but now it was all on the line. He crossed his arms over his chest, like he had to physically try to hold his heart in there or it might deflate and fall out of him somehow. "Joss," he started to say, but he wasn't sure what was going to follow it, and his voice failed him anyway.

"Yeah," Clay replied and was nodding his head. "Ain't nothing going to take that girl away from you," he reminded with such wisdom in his voice. "And you know it, so start knowing it!"

Joss…start knowing it…she'd been through a lot of shit with Tig, that Tig had put her through himself…start knowing it…she'd always been there for him, she'd always hung in, even when she didn't fully agree or even understand…start knowing it…she'd married him, he'd seen a dream come true in her eyes at their wedding…start knowing it…she was a lot to get a hold of, she couldn't be controlled if she didn't really want to be…Tig was her "god," but only because Joss had chosen to pray to him to begin with…she worshipped him, she trusted him, she loved him…start knowing it…

Clay's hand was patting Tig's shoulder, then his arms wrapped around him, but Tig still felt like he was made out of stone that was only now beginning to slowly soften. "Yeah," Clay was half whispering, "You've always been the most loyal brother in this club," said his king, patting Tig's shoulder still. "You just stay loyal to what you know and there won't be anything to worry about."

Tig felt himself nodding, in fact, he was beginning to feel a lot of things; the strength in Clay's arms the first and most instantly notable. Clay wasn't going to let him slip into that same pit of a dungeon that Tig had fallen into after Africa…things were different now, Tig wasn't even the same man now as he was then…shit, how long had it even been since anyone close to him had called him "Alex?" And Joss…whoa…doctor bitch was right, Joss was unlike anyone else, woman or man…and she was his wife, too! Joss…his sweet, beautiful, perfect, dark angel was in surgery…damn it, Tig ached to wrap his arms around her and just hold her, inhaling the vanilla orchid scent of her hair, memorizing every inch of her satiny skin, feeling the love they had for each other flooding into one another and running wild. He'd have to wait though…but he had plenty to do until then, and it was all about being Joss's "god" and seeing her the hell through this! "Yeah," Tig finally answered and stood up on his own once more, shoulders pushed out, back straight. "Let's go back; club's probably all wondering all the same shit you were."

"Don't worry about it," Clay smiled a bit, and was about to explain when the set of double doors at the end of the hallway they'd been walking towards suddenly opened, and there stood doctor bitch, holding a chart.

She was really interested in that chart, flipping pages quickly, quirking an eyebrow, following something along with her finger, and when she looked down the hallway, her eyes stopped on Tig, a weird look on her face. "Tig," she said, running the last few steps towards him so she didn't have to yell and make whatever it was known to everyone. She hugged the clipboard to her chest, a look of astonishment on her face. "Your blood work's back. We need to talk."


	37. Mega Man

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 37

"Look," Tig began as he took a seat in one of the pews in the hospital chapel with doctor bitch…who looked like she really really wished that at least Ope could be here as some kind of buffer, or maybe even protection…yeah, doctor bitch still pissed her scrubs when she saw Tig…yeah, damn right she did! But Tig's smugness was short lived, she'd seen his blood work, and then wanted to "talk." Fuck, this wasn't good! "If I got something that I gave to that girl that's going to kill her, you don't say it any other way but that way, just tell me, don't try to break it to me gently, I fucking hate that!" His voice was bold and somewhat malicious; Clay had pulled Tig back together and doctor bitch offering herself up to feed the beast was only strengthening the resolve forming within Tig. Doctor bitch…she sat there brushing her hair behind her ear or over her shoulder a bunch of times, no matter that it wasn't the least bit out of place, and she cleared her throat a lot, she even trembled a little. It felt good seeing the fear coursing through her like that, she should be afraid, she'd opened her damn mouth one too many times and it almost cost Tig Joss! Joss…yeah, what if that was another catalyst for doctor bitch's fear? What was in his blood? What was it going to do to Joss? And…holy fuck…Joss was pregnant…sort of…shit, Tig knew how he felt about that, but then, did he? Did he really?

"No," doctor bitch squeaked, not near as self righteous as she was when she was Velcro-ed to Jax's arm. "It's nothing like that at all," she tried to bring relief to Tig with the tone of her voice, hoping to not just calm him down, but also maybe bring out some friendlier element in him…but there was no such thing in him, not for her anyway. Tig's eyes stayed on her like a snake watching a mouse, and the little mouse stammered her next words from behind the clipboard that held his chart. "You…your bloo—"

"What the hell is this?" It was a sudden, mean and uncalled for interruption, Tig ripping the chart out of her hands and looking it over himself now, like he understood any of that shit. Whatever, some sneak peak hadn't been what motivated him, he didn't want doctor bitch to have the comfort of something to hide behind, he wanted her to have to face him, eyes wide and pulse thumping…he was Hannibal Lector and she was Clarice…like from that movie, "The Sheep Don't Talk" or whatever the fuck it was called. Doctor bitch never had been properly reprimanded for the shit storm she'd let loose with that little tattle-tale story of Joss's interactions with Opie; that was Jax's arena, it was his job to discipline his old lady…yeah, like that little cocksucker could be counted on for anything, he couldn't even be counted on to stay true to his club! Tig could be counted on, though…and there was no one else in this little chapel but doctor bitch, and Tig…a sick, vicious glee began to tap dance within him…if he were to get up and jam the double doors shut, he could mess doctor bitch up so much, she'd be afraid to say who'd done what to her…if she could even speak out of the hole in her neck that Tig reached into and yanked her throat out through. Damn…he was himself again, rock solid and even feeling a little giddy about what doctor bitch could be suffering at the drop of a hat…Tig's hat.

Doctor bitch exhaled a shaky breath like she knew what Tig was thinking…but she didn't, she couldn't, she'd never understand how to understand him; the only one who ever knew what he was thinking was Joss, and how dare doctor bitch even try to give the impression that she could do anything that his Joss could do! Doctor bitch's trembling finger appeared before his eyes, attempting to point something out to him on the chart, but she quickly pulled it back when Tig snarled and jerked the chart away. Oh yeah, she was real off kilter…and he wouldn't have had it any other way, this was the homage she owed him, and owed Joss too! Doctor bitch pressed on through her terror though, stealing a glance at the crucifix above the candles that flickered against the wall like a cross would keep her safe…ha! It was nothing but a big piece of lumber to swing at her fucking head! Regardless, she was talking again, or trying to. "You," she began, but shuddered like she felt a sudden draft, tried to work up the courage, or insolence to look Tig in the eyes, but she didn't have either one. "You have an aneuploidy." Her voice sounded like she was in a car that was driving down a really bumpy road, and Tig could tell she wasn't able to concentrate very much on the words she said.

"A what?" He was far too confused, curious and concerned for whatever the hell that meant for Joss to sound as menacing as he'd meant to. "What the flaming hell is that?"

"I'm sorry!" Doctor bitch instantly squeaked, but she wasn't getting it together very well. "A rare karyotype," she spit out, words and thoughts and fear running like a hamster on a wheel inside her, but Tig really needed her to speak English right now!

He lowered the chart into his lap and sighed, his stare still on doctor bitch, and still cold, but he had to ease it back a bit, she wasn't making any fucking sense…wasn't going to be easy though. "You bring me back here to make up stupid words?"

Doctor bitch closed her eyes for a minute and drew a deep breath, disappearing inside herself for what seemed like so long that Tig was tempted to tap her or…flick her in the forehead or something to bring her back…this was important shit, God damn it! What did Joss have? What did he give her? Fuck, what did he have himself? How far away from that hole dug for two at Evermore were he and Joss? "Alright look," Doctor bitch said as her eyes popped back open again with some pathetic excuse for moxie fizzing in them. "I appreciate why you hate me, if I was you, I'd hate me too. But that doesn't change the fact that right now, I'm your doctor, and you're my patient, so I'm just going to do what I do, because that's all I can do, whether it fits with MC protocols or not!"

Tig's first inclination was to reach back and slap doctor bitch…talkin' like that…all "I'm a doctor"…God damn, what a stupid bitch, she never learned, never, ever, ever! But, as sick as it made him to admit, he was slightly impressed that she'd not only grabbed a stick in this fight, but kinda sharpened the end of it too. Plus, she had said she'd hate herself too if she were Tig…she understood in at least some way that what she'd done by running her mouth was wrong…that was…something…but not enough. "So you going to do what you do, or just keep sitting there with your stethoscope up your sweet, little ass?" Hmm…maybe that was a little out of line, but, fuck, who cared? Who was going to jump in to rescue the old lady of a brother that had turned his back on the club? Doctor bitch was in some deep, deep water…and she was going under.

Doctor bitch lurched backwards a bit, like she was actually shocked that Tig hadn't been effected by her little show of bravado and she stared at him with a lost look in her green eyes…green eyes…Joss…Joss's eyes were so much prettier than Doctor bitch's eyes, Joss's eyes were crystal clear and sparkled like a faceted gem…damn it, how was she? What were they finding in that operating room? Had she stopped bleeding? What Tig wouldn't have given to be able to go to her right now, and hold her hand. Green eyes…but the ones that were beholding him right now were muted and dusky, like an olive green…doctor bitch…fuck, she held the answers Tig needed right now…but he hated her so damn much, it was hard to back off and let her give them to him. Shit, maybe calling Ope in here was a good idea? It might keep Tig on the tamer side…or both Ope and Doctor bitch coming at him at once would really set the stage for some festival of homicides.

What Tig really needed was Joss, if she were here, she'd have him focused on what mattered the most with only a couple of words, she always knew what to say and when to say it, or when not to. She was perfect…Joss…God damn it, he had to think about her; forget doctor bitch was doctor bitch, ease up, just think of doctor bitch as some kinda…talking medical encyclopedia that could tell him what he needed to know…let go of the need to make her squirm on the hook for just a few minutes…for Joss. Besides, not every ember of Tig's rage was directly fueled by doctor bitch's giving up some inaccurate four-one-one on Opie/Joss. Some of it was blow back from how fucking angry Tig was with her old man; doctor bitch was just the one feeling the burn. Joss would have pointed out the unfairness and uselessness of what Tig was doing, and she'd be right. Joss…she was pregnant…there was a kid in her, but they were cutting it out of her, it wouldn't survive…because Tig had killed it, there was some disease or bacteria in his blood that lined up the shot in the crosshairs…between its little shoulder blades…and killed it…his kid…Joss's kid…Joss was likely just as dead too…Tig had to find out.

The chapel was as silent as Evermore, doctor bitch afraid to speak and Tig trying not to; he had no clue as to how a normal conversation was possible with anyone, let alone doctor bitch. One minute passed, then another, then another…Tig watched the second hand making its rounds on the clock on the wall, trying to at least organize his thoughts and emotions into separate boxes, and lock the one that was preventing any communication closed for now. But doctor bitch, she was just sitting there, sniffling…maybe even crying, he didn't know because he wasn't about to do her the honor of giving her a look, who fucking cared if she was crying? She fucking should be! God damn it…what was he doing sitting here? This wasn't getting him anywhere! That was it, there had to be a fucking medical dictionary in this shithole hospital somewhere, he'd just go and look up "anusploddy" or whatever the fucking term was. But just as he leaned forward enough to get to his feet, doctor bitch spoke.

"Heard you got married," she said without looking at him, and her voice was drowned with the tears Tig could tell were indeed washing down her cheeks.

"Yeah," he replied harshly, what the fuck was doctor bitch doing now? Was this somehow going to turn into some shit about how Joss had some final bachelor-ette swing with Ope? Was that it? Fuck…that was probably what doctor bitch had wanted from day one, that's probably why'd she'd ever opened her mouth to Tig about Ope and Joss…Ope was Jax's best friend, wouldn't it have been just fantastic if doctor bitch's best friend was with Jax's best friend? Particularly when doctor bitch was scared shitless of the guy who was her best friend's old man? So why not break Joss and Tig up, so Opie would have to swoop Joss up in the crossfire and save her? Yeah…all of a sudden, that made so much sense…that's why doctor bitch was crying, because it was final now, she'd never weasel a way to get Joss with Opie if Tig was married to Joss! What a dumb, scheming, worthless cunt…doctor bitch…yeah, she and Jax deserved each other!

"Congratulations." Doctor bitch still didn't look at him, or even wipe at her eyes. Her tone wasn't happy, but what she'd said somehow wasn't any less sincere.

"What?" Tig barked; why was he sitting here still listening to this? He had shit to do! But, every time he thought he was going to stand, doctor bitch said something completely perplexing.

"Congratulations," she repeated in the same sad, dull manner, but this time she did turn her head his direction and look at him briefly. "That's what you say to newlyweds, isn't it?"

"How the fuck do I know?" Tig half yelled and half groaned. He hated whatever this was, because he didn't know what it was. "I don't go around saying shit to newlyweds, do I?"

"Doesn't matter," doctor bitch shrugged, but she didn't look at him this time, just stared up ahead at where the small altar in the chapel was. "You are one; you made a promise to the woman you love, and you kept it." Her neck flinched like she might look at him again, but she held back and just stared up at the altar. "That's admirable. I know you'll do all you can for her."

What the…doctor bitch said he "loved" Joss! Doctor bitch didn't have the necessary clearance to go around saying classified shit like that! But…well…yeah, he did love Joss. But what the hell was doctor bitch doing talking like this? She hated him as much as he hated her! Tig had a dream sorta like this once…only it wasn't doctor bitch being all "you're a good man" to him, it was Mrs. Hale, his rotund, fourth grade teacher…they hated each other too; Hale was always on his case about book reports and so Tig had made up a song about her that went, "Hail Hale, the big, fat whale"…and Tig had a paper route, only it was dead chickens he was winging onto everyone's doorstep from his bike, not newspapers…wait, maybe that was a different dream? Whatever, this "congratulations" shit was throwing him off his game…and making him curious to the point of wanting to play along just to hear more. "Yeah, I will!" He answered in annoyed confirmation. "Why the fuck do you care?"

"Because I do," doctor bitch shrugged, and this time she was looking at him…like she felt so alone, like she was suddenly looking at SAMCRO through some thick window that she could no longer open. What the fuck? "It's in my blood to care, that's why I became a doctor; just like it's in your blood to do your best for Joss, literally."

At that, and like a dork, Tig instantly raised the chart in his lap up to his eyes like he was going to be greeted by a column in the blood work results that read, "Good for Joss" or something. He wasn't, so what the hell was doctor bitch referring to? Before he knew what he was doing, he'd shoved the clipboard into doctor bitch's hands, about to demand where his suitability as Joss's husband was decipherable in his blood, but luckily, he was able to catch up with himself and punch up his spitefulness, "You saying I got AIDS or something?" What? Where the hell had that thought come from? Well, that was one of his worries, particularly for Joss, but really, what kind of sense did that question make?

"No, you do not have AIDS!" Doctor bitch said levelly and clearly, making sure he understood; the physician in her winning out that time and beginning to rise above the tears. "But you do have an extra 'Y' chromosome."

An extra chromosome? Fuck! "I'm retarded?" Tig was surprised by the echo of his own voice against the chapel walls, he'd sort of lost it and just yelled that right out…shit, good thing Chewbadooba wasn't here after all, he'd have fucking loved that! But an extra chromosome…isn't that what that meant? Jesus fucking Christ!

God damn it to hell, but doctor bitch's tear streaked face actually crinkled with a little laugh that she just couldn't keep from escaping. She took another deep breath to get control of herself again, and then turned back around in the pew to face Tig, who was actually turned away from her now. "No, let's get two things straight right now; you do not have AIDS, and you are not developmentally disabled. You have a rare genetic abnormality that occurs in one out of one thousand men. It's called forty-seven, XYY syndrome and that's nothing like the Trisomy twenty-six – twenty-eight that is responsible for Down syndrome," she clarified sounding more like a doctor than a scared little, brat. "Understand?"

Huh? XYY? Forty-seven? Twenty-six? Twenty-eight? Hike! Tig turned back towards her with a lost, but pissed off, expression. "No!" Holy shit, he had something, and she still wouldn't tell him what the fuck it was!

"Okay," doctor bitch sighed and seemed to be melting out of her professional persona, the one that used empty, balloon-like, scientific words that Tig was getting more and more irritated with. Good, finally some straight talk, he hoped…but he hoped even more that she'd stay the hell away from "congratulations," he still didn't know what to do with that. She looked at him again, enough fear still lingering in her dull, green eyes to mellow Tig out some. "You see, most men are born with two sex chromosomes, a female chromosome from their mother called the 'X' chromosome and a male chromosome from their father called a 'Y' chromosome. You on the other hand were born with three chromosomes, one 'X' and two 'Y's.' It used to be called 'supermale' syndrome."

What? No way! Was he hearing this right? He had Superman syndrome? What the fuck? "That's a real thing?" The question flew out of his mouth before he could even think of how to ask it.

Doctor bitch sat forward a little, but she didn't laugh this time, or smile or anything like that, she just looked at him from head to toes and began nodding. "Yeah, I'm actually kind of embarrassed that I never suspected you might be an XYY, you do have a lot of the perceived characteristics, even if some of those noted characteristics were born out of bad scientific research."

What? Why the hell did she keep starting to say something, and just when she got to the part where Tig was starting to understand this shit, she stopped talking? "What does that mean?" he asked, his hands jerking from doctor bitch towards himself like he was going to just yank the information out of her.

Doctor bitch was calm though, focused, like she was making some kinda lab notes in her head, how she had to measure and record everything about him so she could win the Nobel Prize for Chromosomes or some shit. "It means that extra 'Y' has made itself known in you; you're taller than the average man, you've got a broader chest and wider shoulders, you've got more natural muscle development in the upper body," she paused in mid ramble of signs and symptoms to consult the chart in her hands. "Your testosterone level, for late evening, was over eight hundred sixty! Usually a man your age, particularly at night, only averages between three hundred to six hundred," she paused and looked back at him. "But you've got the numbers of an eighteen year old! That's what attracted my attention when I got your blood work back, and sure enough, you're an XYY male."

Oh hell yeah! Damn, he was a real stud…all that testosterone! Whoa…wait…did Tig really know everything here? Sure, it sounded great, but…Joss…did this XYY stuff...do something bad to her? He really wanted to like being this…but…Joss…shit, why couldn't he be with her right now? She probably already knew all about this XYY stuff and she could explain it faster and better than doctor bitch! Joss…the kid…damn, what had Tig's extra chromosome done? "So, this a good thing?" He asked as if he was afraid to hear the answer, and he was.

Doctor bitch was staring at the altar again, but at the sound of his voice she shrugged her shoulders. "It can be," she said musingly and then looked at Tig again. "In your case, I'd say it is; you don't have the pectus deformity or any of the optic problems that are sometimes symptomatic in XYY males. Looks like you ended up with the good stuff," she paused again, but Tig would have been feeling more relieved if doctor bitch obviously didn't have one more shoe to drop. Damn it…his X and Y's had done something bad to Joss! "It explains that abnormal sex drive of yours, and it's likely that you've got an increased fertility potential too; there are a lot of geneticists who will argue that they haven't found any direct correlation between higher testosterone levels and fertility, but it makes sense to me." Tig was still trying to sort all of that out, knowing what she'd just said, but it was…weird applying that to himself…damn it, he didn't want his "sex drive" explained! And he was pretty sure he didn't like doctor bitch knowing all this shit about his "juice" either! Fuck, why would she advertise that she knew something like that about him? And then she turned towards him again, flat, green eyes still somber. "That could be how you and Joss were able to concei—" again she stopped, maybe catching onto how Tig worked, because no, he really didn't like words such as "trimester" and "reproduce" or "fertility"…they were disgusting! Doctor bitch cleared her throat again, "I meant how it was possible for Joss to get…where she is, despite all of the surgeries she's had. You looked like you were having trouble believing it, so I thought it might help you to understand what you are."

Tig could feel all his 'Y's' getting to their feet inside him, ready to rock out with the news of just how much man he was…he was a lot of man…damn, this explained the ten pound hammer between his legs, too! Yesss! Shit, he wanted to grab that blood work and run back out into the waiting with it and stick it in everybody's face, especially big, ol' Chewbadooba's! But Joss was who Tig absolutely couldn't wait to share this with…she was going to freak right out, but in a good way…Tig was more man than anyone could handle, except for Joss…his sweet, dark, perfect angel always did have a hold on him. But Tig wouldn't let himself start celebrating the news just yet; there was still one thing he had to hear plainly. "So, this XYY stuff, it didn't hurt Joss, did it?"

A smile began to slowly emerge across doctor bitch's face, but when she realized it, she forced it away, like she didn't feel it was appropriate…no…that wasn't it…she may have been able to rid herself of that smile, but those jade green eyes were full of some sort of shameful lament, like she was sorry about something she'd done…shit, the Opie/Joss thing? "No," she finally said when she felt like she had herself sorted out again…Tig's question had really thrown her for some reason, like it was some smack in the face of "I told you so" or something. "It can't hurt Joss, don't worry about that." Doctor bitch said, then she did smile, but in a sheepish way. "The only dangers for her are the demands of all that testosterone; it must keep her…busy."

Busy? Oh…yeah…but Tig was so relieved to hear that Joss hadn't caught anything from him that all he could do was nod his head…Joss wasn't in any danger because of his anomaly, and this anomaly was cool as shit! So…why wasn't he on his way down the hallway, brandishing the lab findings? Because something was up with doctor bitch…something strange…she'd been looking at the altar a lot, and acting like she felt so alone…and now there was that strange regret in her eyes. What the hell? Shit…Tig didn't want to understand what it was…but he did want to know what it was…'understanding' and 'knowing' were different things, right? No, don't even get into it…just get on the road before this chic laid whatever it was on him! Tig had enough on his mind…Joss…maybe she was out of surgery? Maybe not, but all his thoughts, words and deeds were for Joss now, he was going to get her through this, and he couldn't concentrate on that sitting here with doctor sad face bitch. He gave doctor bitch a nod, then got to his feet, feeling good to break this thing off right here, but damn if doctor bitch didn't call his name right when he got to the double doors.

"Tig," she'd called, jumping to her feet hurriedly, not being subtle in how she was trying to keep him from leaving, but after he'd stopped and stood looking at her, she suddenly got bashful again, her hands twisting in front of her. "There's something else you should know."

No there wasn't…he was Superman and Joss hadn't caught anything from him, he was good, there was nothing else that he needed doctor bitch to say! But, shit…why was she looking like that? "What?" Tig asked impatiently.

Doctor bitch sighed, "You remember that 'bad scientific research' I mentioned?" No, Tig didn't, not really, but she was sure as shit going to remind him, that was certain. Again she was back to brushing he hair into place, despite that there was nothing wrong with it. "Up until 2001, there was a lot of bad data that indicated XYY males were prone to violence and criminal behavior because all that testosterone pushed them over the edge; XYY's can have bad tempers and be feel very intense emotions, which is why I don't doubt that you love Joss immensely. But for years all of those things were linked to there being a high percentage of XYY's in prison populations." Doctor bitch suddenly paused again like this was bad news…oh, okay, so it was to normal people…but Tig was feeling a grin tugging at his mouth. Shit, he was born badass! And he was born to love Joss, too! But then doctor bitch had to go and ruin some of that interpretation. She looked at the floor for a moment before she continued. "The correlation between the forty-seven, XYY and violence isn't accepted anymore, but…" and she paused again…why? 'But' what? She'd been doing this stop and start shit since they came in here! Tig stared at her hard, gesturing for her to hurry up and continue with his hand, which she finally did, but reluctantly so. "Okay look, I'm not saying that every XYY man is a criminal, but I do believe that the data has to reflect some truth…and I think that in your case, you are one of those XYY's who upholds that correlation. You can't help it, it is what you are…and I…" doctor bitch started to stammer, but why Tig didn't know, this XYY thing just got better and better! What was wrong with her? She was looking all ashamed and regretful again. "And I, as a doctor, should have recognized it sooner, and now that I do…I…well," again she sighed, her hands gripping her own arms. "I owe you an apology for what I always thought about you, and how I treated you…like I said, you can't help it; you're just being what you are."

"What?" Again Tig heard himself talking before he'd had time to mull over the words…but really, what the fuck was going on? Doctor bitch had just apologized for judging him? Really? No…he wasn't doing this…this just felt…well, he didn't know…he just didn't want it. "Uh-uh," he said to her backing away from her against the double doors, grabbing the handle and shaking his head. "I ain't accepting that, take it back!" Why wasn't he accepting that? Cuz…if he did, what the hell did that leave him and doctor bitch as? Friends? What? They couldn't be friends! Could they?

But doctor bitch simpered a bit, like she knew too late was too late. "Sorry," she said again, and Tig just groaned…fuck…but…damn, doctor bitch didn't have to agree to test his blood, or even drag him in here and tell him all this cool shit after she did…oh hell, they probably already were friends! Shitfucker! Wait…Tig's eyes focused straight on doctor bitch, hoping for some kind of haughty news that would disrupt whatever was going on between them.

"Hey," he sorta grunted at her, "why'd you pull my blood when I asked? You think I had AIDS?" He almost dared her to say so, hoped that she'd say so, prayed that some snobby kind of remark would come.

"Joss is yours, right? You own her, don't you?" Doctor bitch asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world…which it was in the MC world, the world that was anything but normal to doctor bitch. What was going on? Tig nodded, watching her closely, and doctor bitch calmly acknowledged his nod. "I was checking to see if your blood type was compatible to Joss's; if she needs blood, who better to get it from than her old man?"

Wow…like, really fucking wow! Tig stood shocked into stillness...was this happening? How long had Joss tried to explain these things to doctor bitch? How many times had doctor bitch failed to understand and ended up telling Joss that Joss was the one who was wrong? Shit, wasn't this the basis for how doctor bitch ended up coming over to Tig with that newsflash about Ope and Joss to begin with? But now doctor bitch understood? Now that she'd given up her club affiliations and her old man had given the club the finger? She got it now? Hmm…all that staring at the altar, the loneliness that lingered in her eyes…hmm…there was trouble in doctor bitch's paradise, but Tig wasn't getting into that, not now anyway. He still had his own paradise to set back in order…his queen was likely still in surgery, he had to protect her the best he could from where he was…Joss…and the kid…Joss would make it, Tig knew that she would now; if she could handle him and all his violent, crazy fucked up genes, then she could handle anything. She'd be fine, she'd fight, and she'd win, he'd make sure of it, he could almost feel her blood clotting and the warmth returning to her skin if he concentrated on it enough…Joss would come out of this, she'd be okay…but the kid…the baby was dead. No, Tig didn't mourn that, he didn't want children; he didn't even really want the ones he had, not after Africa. But this kid, it was Joss's…his and Joss's kid. It had been unheard of, unplanned and unwelcomed…but that kid would damn sure be respected. Joss…Tig…it was their kid; he loved its mother and its mother loved him…their love, that forbidden, obsessive fury that would have turned other couples to dust…that kid had been conceived within that love, but never born…turned to dust. Still, that kid was regal blood; it was holy. Tig let go of the door handle and squared up again to set his stare on doctor bitch. "Look," he began, knowing that for the first time ever, doctor bitch would understand. "What's going to happen to my kid?"


	38. Baggage Claim

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 38

I don't know why I'm still standing here by this door, looking out into the hallway through the little, vertical slat of glass that is its excuse for a window. Tara asked some nurse to show us all down to the surgical waiting room, said it would be where the doctor operating on Joss would go to look for us all after the surgery and let us know how she was. I don't really know where the operating rooms are in this place, but I do know that I'd seen them wheeling Joss up the hallway I've been keeping watch over, because maybe, just maybe, they'd wheel her back down it again too, even though I know she'd be headed for ICU and not back to the ER. Whatever, it's not like it matters, because what I know and what I've got going crazy inside me aren't playing this thing like it's a team sport. Man, I have to know how she is, I have to know she's okay, all my hopes and fears colliding like weather fronts inside me, creating more tempestuous mayhem than I can really stand anymore. I'm not usually like this, I don't pace, I don't get too anxious, I don't worry so much or so hard that it makes black spots appear before my eyes when it really gets rolling in my head. I didn't have the chance to get like this with Donna; it was over and done with before I could worry…Donna. But Joss? She's got the market for driving me insane with worry cornered. I haven't sat down since the nurse escorted us here…I've just been standing…watching…for Joss.

Everyone else here is dealing with this a lot better than I know I am. Juice has been sitting there with his feet up on the magazine covered coffee table and his cell to his ear, talking to Lauren for the last hour, telling her what happened, from the beat up old church to Joss's pregnancy. It's nothing disrespectful, Juice doesn't do that, but I'm still tired of hearing it, no matter how well intentioned it is. I can tell that he and Lauren are already making plans to come visit her. Good, Joss would like that, Juice is a nice guy, Lauren's a great girl, a visit from them would go far to make Joss feel better after something like this. But as glad as I am to know what they've been discussing, I really wish they'd just end the call and shut up. I wish everyone and everything would shut up…I'm trying to…trying to what? It's not like I can hear what's going on in surgery, it's not like there's some continuous, drop of a pin quiet whisper being broadcast into this room that is giving us the play by play of Joss's condition. What the hell am I trying to do that requires such total silence? Who knows…there's just a lot of things bunching up in my mind and heart, like beach traffic on a Friday afternoon, but there's no off ramp…none. I'm stuck here, inside my own head. I don't like this feeling, I don't like how it feels…it's foreign and strange, feels like I borrowed it from someone else.

Waiting doesn't help this worry or this feeling. This has got to be the worst thing in the world, waiting. You're dangling at the mercy of some decision that's being slowly lowered down to where you can receive it, but until then you just…wait. It takes a toughness that I never really considered before, and I don't think very many people have it. Tig sure as hell doesn't. Tig, the bastard's not even here. Maybe they were smart enough to lie to him about doing that blood test he was demanding, and then security just tossed his crazy ass out the exit door? I hope they did, I can't take anymore of him tonight. Tara told him that Joss was bleeding out, told him she was pregnant, told him she needed surgery, told him they'd lost the baby, and he sat there like he hadn't heard any of it…sat there like a man that had dragged Joss off to one of the ugliest places in Charming, then forced her to stand bare footed in its clutter and filth while he married her! Christ Joss, you deserved better than that!

But the real tragedy of the night was how I just stood there and watched it all happen from the putrid wedding to Tig's inattentiveness to Joss's circumstances. I didn't take up for her, despite that I know she deserves better, a better wedding, a better amount of sympathy and care...a better man. I'd have been a patient here myself as well, but I could have tried to stop that wedding…I should have asked her if that was what she'd wanted…someone should have, and if it wasn't me, well, it wasn't me, and no one else had. And now she was married…to Tig…with a wedding to match that clusterfuck of a husband it gave her. That's it; I'm not failing her anymore tonight, or ever again. If I see her being rolled passed this window again, I'm out the door and following along behind her gurney. I won't leave her; I won't let anything or anyone fuck with the time she'll need to get over this, from the wedding to the loss of a child. Fuck Tig! We've been here for over three hours and he still hasn't joined us! In my mind, that becomes abandonment more and more, and the club has a policy in place for such things.

I couldn't get my head around Tig being married, looks like he couldn't either. Just a few hours ago he stood there and promised to be with Joss through "sickness and health," so where the fuck was he? He left her, it got too real for him, and he left her. Yeah…if that's how Tig was going to play this, by abandoning her, by running off somewhere and forgetting about it, then Joss is mine; that's how I'm going to play it! How is this not abandonment? Clay's here, Bobby's here, Juice is here, Chibs is here, Sack's here, and I'm here! But is Tig here? At the moment, I'd say we've all got more ownership over Joss than Tig is currently claiming…hell; I have more ownership of her than he does at this instant! She's not just Tig's wife, she's Tig's property; if he goes AWOL, throws her out, or better yet, dies, then Joss becomes the property of the club, the same as any of the other things that Tig owns. And if Tig is gone, and he is now, then Joss by default is property of the club; I'll buy her from the club! Yeah…locked inside the firebox in the attic I have about seven hundred dollars…if that isn't enough to satisfy Clay and the rest of the guys, it's at least a good down payment. This is doable…it's done!

I'm feeling energized by the decision I've come to, but I'm reminding myself that I have no idea how long Joss's recovery process is going to take and not just from the surgery. That was going to be the easy part, a few days, a few stitches and she'd be fine in the physical sense…I hope. Losing the baby, yeah, that might take time too, but I'm not worried about that either. She could be the picture of health when she wakes up, but it wasn't going to matter when she woke up without Tig at her bedside. Joss has her problems, her momentary lapses into a darkness she can't control, but I still don't understand what she sees in Tig…I just know she loves him, more than can be good for someone to love anyone. But I'll be there with her through it all, I'll get her over him, I'll be everything to her that he can't be or won't be…which is a lot of things, I realize. And what I can't be to her, I'll get her a counselor to help her find them; maybe a therapist will even eliminate those violent, screaming fits she has. That has to stop, but I'm confident we can get it to stop; she needs to be shown how to appreciate who she is and what's special about her. Tig keeps her like a pretty, little goldfish in a bowl; no wonder she goes crazy. I won't do that to her, I'll tell her everyday how brilliant she is, how there's nothing in the world that she can't do; I'll let her exercise that genius level IQ. If I can fill her up with what's so great and so positive about her, maybe it'll put an end to those frightening spells? But even if it doesn't, I already know one thing; I'll never jam handle bars in her mouth and jerk her back with enough force to break her neck! I still can't believe Tig did that…he could have killed her! But how would I get control of that freak show if it happened? I don't know yet, I hope to somehow avoid it…Joss's meltdown did take out Stahl for me, but it's time to put those…bouts of demonic possession of hers to bed and just let Joss live. Joss will be fine, I'll make her happy, I'll give her a normal life.

In the middle of all my plans I can hear footsteps coming down the hallway I'm guarding, my heart starts to pound in the hopes of getting a glimpse of Joss, even though I can tell whoever it is that's walking isn't pushing a gurney, and they're also coming from the opposite direction. Maybe it's Joss's surgeon? It's been almost three hours now; they had to be nearing the end if not finished, didn't they? I don't know anything about repairing blood vessels, but it definitely feels like it's time for at least an update if not word that Joss is out of surgery. I began to lean forward enough to crane my neck and try to look down the hall as the footsteps got closer, hoping to see the all too familiar blue-green color of scrubs and surgical gowns appearing, but I don't. What I do see shocks me.

Jax smiles at me as he reaches for the handle of the door I'm blocking, so I move out of the way to let him in, even though it makes me start to panic that I'll miss something in the hallway. He's my best friend…I think…I don't know, it's so hard to know anymore given his current status with the club…I'm not even sure why Clay's still allowing him to wear that cut…I don't think I would. Clay, Bobby and all the rest lift their heads in the direction of the opening door, everyone sees Jax is here, but no one gets up to greet him. What's he even doing here? Why do I feel like I wish he wasn't?

"Hey Ope," he says as he comes in the door, but he's got that low tone of voice people greet each other with at funerals. I nod, extend a hand, but I get a one armed hug instead…funny, that doesn't feel like brotherhood anymore. But, nonetheless, he is still my friend until this thing breaks wider open than it already has, I guess. And I did really need someone else on my side right now, someone who knew me.

"Tara call you?" I ask, and Jax is looking at me strangely, noticing I haven't moved, I'm still leaning here in the doorway, most of my attention on the hall.

"Yeah, she got a hold of me when you all showed up," He answers and for a moment looks out into the hall with me to see what it is I'm watching…but I'm not watching anything, I'm watching for something. "How's Joss?" Jax says, seeing the same nothing that I was seeing, but not understanding what it meant.

I feel a shudder, than an ache overwhelm me; Joss is mine, that's how she was, that's all I'd been thinking the whole time I'd been standing here, but that's not what Jax is asking me, that's not why he came here. She's not his literal sister, he's not actual family, why's he here? Who is he supporting? Tig? Yeah, right! I'm starting to feel like I wish Jax would have called me before he showed up, so I could have told him it was alright, Joss didn't need him, she had me. She was mine, I got to decide now who was around her and who wasn't. Well, she was almost mine…almost. Still, I'm the one being asked about Joss, I'm the one about to answer about how she was…yeah, she was mine! "Still in surgery," I say like I somehow secretly know more than that. "Got her here just in time; praying that our luck holds out."

"Yeah," Jax agrees, but then looks over towards the rows of empty chairs, expecting we could sit down and talk about it, but I don't budge. But I can see he also realizes something's wrong here, and it's not about me. "Where's Tig?"

"Who cares?" I grumble back to him and resume watching out the slim window in the door. Tig wasn't here where he should have been, Tig was gone, he'd given Joss up.

Jax smiles a bit, how many times had both he and I formulated that response in our heads to that question in the past…back in the days when Jax was still one of us? "You wanna sit?" He asks, and points towards the bank of connected, light green and blue striped padded chairs right across from the post I've assigned myself. "They just finished this place; Tara said they tried to give it a relaxing but upbeat look. I guess sage walls, gray carpeting and oak coffee tables make that happen somehow, care to try it?"

"I'm good." I reply, and try to hide how annoying it is that he sounds like he's talking about this waiting room like it's his place, like he's inviting me into his house. But why am surprised? Being John Teller's son meant the club was his, so being with Tara must have also meant Jax owned Saint Thomas's too…that seemed to be how he understood the way of things.

"Ope," Jax grimaces and looks around the room, how all my brothers are huddled up, but Tig's missing, and here I am all the way over by the door. "Something happen between you and Tig?" He asks, and when I give him the obvious "duh!" look, he amends his question. "I mean, 'something else' happen between you and Tig?"

I start to chuckle, I can't help it, that's a good one, Jax standing there thinking I'm being shunned by the club because somewhere in all that went down tonight, I jacked Tig up. I wish that happened, but it didn't matter now, Tig was gone. Something else had happened between psycho and me though…even if psycho didn't know it yet himself, wherever he was. Jax won't understand, at least, I'm not explaining it. "I was best man at the wedding." I say, that's "something else" that happened between me and Tig, so it's an honest answer.

Jax takes a step back and looks at me again, but I don't really know what it is he's focusing on because my eyes are glued to the hallway. Joss…how much longer was it going to be before I could see her…and then claim her? Jax gives the rest of the club one more quick scan, then his eyes are on me again as he tugs at my arm, pushing the door open. "C'mere," he says, and pulls me out of the waiting room to talk privately. I don't feel like talking, there's way too many things inside of me to try to and talk about anything, but, oh well, at least I'm in the hallway now; if Joss gets wheeled down this way, I won't miss her! "You're scaring me, Ope. What's going on?" Jax is asking me, but I'm not looking at him, my eyes are tracing the path that I'd seen Joss being taken away in. "Ope!" Jax says again, only this time he grabs my cut and gives me a hard shake.

Damn it, I guess I have to talk to him, I guess I have to tell him, to get him off my back. Well, in a way, it'll be good to talk about it to someone, and it's not like the rest of the club would hear it now. I'd tell them eventually, but now was too soon. Reluctantly I shift my eyes from the hallway to Jax. "Tig left," I tell him with unabashed directness. "He's gone, so I'm taking Joss now."

Jax kinda jerks back, startled and then his brows knit together as he stares at me. "What?" He asks, almost laughing like he thinks I'm joking, but then I guess he saw that I wasn't. "You aren't serious, are you? How do you even know Tig's really gone?"

What? Why is he challenging me? Aren't I better for Joss than Tig? What's wrong with Jax? I try not to let on that he's shaking my confidence. "I know that if he loved her, he'd be here right now!" I say staunchly, daring Jax to disagree.

But he is disagreeing with me! He's standing here shaking his head. "Ope, c'mon, man! You gotta get out of this Joss thing, someone's going to end up getting killed!"

That's it; that was the last thing I wanted to hear! I lay eyes on Jax now, staring down at him like I'm even taller than him than I actually am. Now I'm shaking my head, about to explain it all for him and let him know that this is going to happen, and that he can't do a damn thing about it. "You're wrong," I half growl, and it's the first time I've ever talked to Jax with this tone of voice. "Tig quit her, Joss is unofficially an asset of the club's, but before it even becomes official, I'm buying the club out. I have the money. I'll own Joss, she'll be mine."

Jax gasps, looks at me like he's seeing a side of me he doesn't recognize, and I guess he wouldn't; I don't recognize it. "Ope…man," he sighs, his fingers rubbing at his chin like doing so might make a better selection of words arrive on his tongue than what he's already got. Finally he just sighs, looks at me and starts shaking his head again. "Jesus, do you hear yourself? You're jumping to ridiculous conclusions! You're going to 'buy' her? You're going to 'own' her?" He repeats for my benefit, but I know what I said…and I saw nothing wrong with it. "It's like you're turning into Tig!" Jax half shouts, and I all of sudden feel the bottom drop out of the floor I'm standing on. Good Lord…am I?


	39. Encore

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 39

Apparently when Saint Thomas Hospital decided to do some renovations and build some new buildings, they'd been offered a special on green paint. As long as Tig followed the green painted walls, he knew he was getting closer to the surgical viewing area that doctor bitch had told him about. Before she set him on his course, she'd even reached behind the nurse's desk on the surgical floor and stolen a little, pink, clip-on pass that indicated Tig had permission to be wandering where he was wandering. It looked really stupid clipped to his cut, this laminated piece of cardstock, the color of Pepto; it identified him as something, but just what Tig wasn't up for imagining right now. He wasn't up for thinking about what was up with doctor bitch either, all he knew was that she was being kinda cool now, looking out for Joss and making sure Tig knew what he needed to know and was where he needed to be. Shit, what was that going to end up costing him?

He'd made it to where he needed to be, in something called the "family viewing room." They shoulda called it the "green viewing room" because that same paint was all over the walls. It seemed like the more serious an ailment was, the greener this shithole hospital was in the wing it was treated in. Green, Tig was so sick of seeing green now…it wasn't even a nice green to look at, like Joss's eyes were a pretty green, all full of light and energy, the same color of the natural turf he'd played football on in college, just a beautiful, hopeful, alive green. But this? No, this was like…color of the face of the kid who puked on the Ferris wheel green…no, that was too long a name, they'd never fit that on the little paper crayon wrapper…this was…Ass Green! Sure didn't go with his little, pink hall pass! Huh? What the fuck was he doing? He'd been in here for about an hour, he could see Joss, it was time to let everything else go and do just that…see Joss. What the hell was Ass Green?

This was as close to Joss as he could get right now. He could see her face at least, but that was it. Her silky black hair with its signature blood red ends was tucked away beneath the blue-green shower cap deal. There was a doctor standing up by her head, holding a mask over her nose and mouth, her eyes were closed, her skin still more pasty than milky white. There was a surgical drape, arranged like a shelter half, at her chest, and working on the other side of it were two more doctors and a nurse, dutifully undistracted from whatever it was they were doing to save Joss, but they blocked Tig's view entirely. Well, it's not like he really wanted to see Joss all cut open anyway. But damn…what he would have done to just go in there and hold her hand, even though she'd never know he was there…no, she'd know…somehow, she'd know; this thing between them had a lot of fire power with a hair trigger to boot, if Tig went in there, she'd know it somehow. Hell, she probably had some trippy, unconscious sense that he was here now.

This was weird, watching his old lady on an operating table. So was this room; The Ass Green Viewing Area. He'd been expecting a theater, like in one of those British movies set in the eighteen hundreds about people stealing corpses and selling them to med schools. He thought there'd be some coliseum kind of rows and rows of seats built all around the operating table that was directly in the middle. That would have been kinda cool…well, it would have been cool if it wasn't his Joss on the table, anyway. But she was the one on the table, and this was no theater…blue chairs, gray carpet…and the seats along the viewing window were on tall, thin legs, like bar stools. What the hell? Well okay, they kinda did provide a better vantage point, maybe Tig couldn't see everything that happened, but he could see more than if he were just standing here. And this window, it was one of those mirror on one side, darkened glass on the other things that had always creeped him out…there was always something no one wanted to face on the other side of these window/mirror things, usually a witness! But now, this creepy glass was in between he and his Joss…shit, this was still torturous, being so close but with no hope of being able to touch or hold her, or even talk to her. But this was better than sitting in that other room way back down the hallway where his brothers were all waiting. Tig carried most of his personal shit alone and he dealt with it that way too. The support offered by Clay and the rest of the club was appreciated, but at times it was also like having to swallow some big, cumbersome vitamin pill…yeah, it was good for him, but taking it left him feeling kind of strangled. All he needed right now was Joss, and even though she was sealed away from him in both the operating room and anesthesia, being able to see a few square inches of her face was finally making him calmer than he'd been all night.

Tig watched Joss in silence; this was actually allowing him to unwind some as long as he pretended Joss was just asleep. He watched her chest rise and fall, the rhythm and rate of her breathing was completely forced and unnatural, but it also meant she was alive. He watched the patterns of her beating heart as they bumped across the EKG monitor, the continuous, cadenced beat of it becoming something soothing. Every little beep out of that machine and the blip on the monitor was like Joss letting him know she was still here, that she was doing okay, that he shouldn't worry. Okay, Tig thought, but she better mean that! He wasn't sure what he'd do if she suddenly nose-dived in front of him, but this creepy window/mirror didn't look strong enough to keep him from going through it. No, Joss didn't want him thinking that way, she only wanted him to relax, she reminded him of that with another measured rise and following fall of her beautiful breasts…she was okay. Tig nodded even though she couldn't see him, but it didn't matter, it was working. He was feeling his thoughts returning to their normal, jumbled, one hundred and ten mile an hour pace. Hmm…he wondered how much of his brain antics was Africa and how much was maybe the XYY. Probably none of it was the XYY; from what doctor bitch had said, the XYY didn't mess with thinking ability. But it did make some guys morons, made their IQ's a little lower than everyone else's. Tig wasn't sure if he fell into that category, he was so messed up mentally from other shit that the confusion was confused. But, it didn't matter, if he was not in fact the sharpest knife in the drawer, he didn't care. He had Joss, she was more intelligent than anyone he'd ever known; she had more than enough brains for the both of them.

The doctors were reaching across Joss's hips now with a lot of long, scissory looking things. At the end of the operating table Tig could see one of her feet jiggle loosely with the reverberations of the shifting table one of the doctor's leaned against; Joss didn't have any shoes or socks on still, and he felt kinda bad about that, when she got out of surgery, the first thing he was going to do was find that girl some shoes…Jesus Christ, it all of sudden dawned on Tig that he'd married a seventeen year old girl who was also bare foot and pregnant! Holy shit…that couldn't have been more 'Tig' than Tig was himself! The kid…no, he wasn't going to get that loop started again, he'd taken care of that, Tara understood where he was coming from; Tig didn't have to think about the kid anymore, not right now. Wait…Tara? Tara? That wasn't her fucking name! Doctor bitch…yeah, doctor bitch…she and Tig had talked about that, he was good. The kid wouldn't come up again until Joss was good and woke up from this surgery.

He wasn't sure how to bring it up, but very likely, he wouldn't have to. He knew his Joss; his sweet, dark, perfect angel was likely to be who brought it up, in the form of a tearful, "sorry." It would be one word that meant so much, she was sorry for getting pregnant, she was sorry for losing his kid…she was sorry for not telling him. Tig knew that Joss knew she was pregnant, maybe not at first, but for the last few days, yeah, she knew. When the pain first started it was only his fears and worries that she was trying to dissuade and distract with all her theories…it was from falling off the horse, it was because she missed him, it was because she was crazy and the pain wasn't real. But for the last few days, no, that had changed…she'd been trying to make herself believe it was anything but what it was, desperately ignoring what her body had been whispering to her until it finally began to shout it at a decibel that consumed her. And when she'd come to in the van, and knew she couldn't get out of going to the hospital, knew that her secret was about to be discovered, she'd gone spider monkey…that was proof enough that she knew she was pregnant right there. The spider monkey was always Joss's last resort to stay safe. But there was still one thing that kept pulling loose the laces of closure Tig kept trying to tie up…how did Joss know she was pregnant?

"Never trust anything that can bleed for three days and live!" Hadn't that been one of his fondest pieces of advice to prospects when they stood mesmerized by the show on the stripper polls in the clubhouse, their eyes and pants bulging? Tig had actually said that enough times that he figured it would keep from ever taking an old lady, cuz, how would that look? Like he didn't take his own advice! But Joss…damn it, she was so fucking perfect…she didn't do any of that girl shit that would have made Tig into some hypocrite! But…that was the age old warning system all women relied upon to know they were knocked up…Joss didn't have that…so…how did she know? The question occurred to him once already tonight, but he'd had no answer then either and it wasn't going away. It really was bothering him, but why Tig wasn't sure…something was wrong with that…whatever it was that had tipped Joss off, it wasn't good. Shit…fuck…now this new perceived danger was in him, making its way to the controls in relief of the initial "something's wrong with Joss" fear that had finally been alleviated. It never fucking ended!

But hey, Tig sat forward in the bar stool type chair he occupied, watching through the creepy mirror window with a renewed sense of hope; the doctors were beginning to lay instruments together in a pile on some other piece of surgical drape, they were pulling even longer, wand looking things attached to long black cords out of…well, Joss, and they were turning off the monitor they'd been looking at throughout the surgery. Finally…it looked like the surgery was over! But Joss…she'd survived, right? Of course she had, she'd said she was doing fine, and Tig wouldn't let himself think anything other than that, but all the same, he peered into the operating room until he could see the EKG machine again, still blipping and beeping and reporting the usual little short wave, big wave, short wave pattern that told him for certain that Joss was okay! Jesus Christ, relief was washing over him in tsunami waves of elation…he'd known she'd make it, but she'd made it!

Tig slumped back against the blue fabric of the chair, closing his eyes and sighing audibly; it felt so good to have this over with, almost better than marrying that damn girl felt. Joss…she was all his now, and she was all better! He could see her soon, had Ta—doctor bitch's cell number, he was supposed to call her when Joss was escorted out of surgery, and doctor bitch would do what she'd promised. Tig had barged his wicked way into ICU before, but this time it wouldn't be necessary. Joss would have a private room to wake up in, nearest to, but not in ICU, he could literally walk right into it, sit beside her bed and wait for her eyes to open…while he finally got to hold her hand.

The nurse was finished with the gauze pads and whatever else Tig had seen her hands manipulating, the doctors were standing back, talking to one another now. Tig began to get to his feet, reaching for his phone when the nurse suddenly pulled down the surgical drape that had covered most of Joss's body…and there was his sweet, dark, perfect angel…naked! What the hell? No…oh no…not with all those dudes in the room…they hadn't seen…yeah…they had…Jesus Christ! Joss was quickly covered up again with an oversized gown and then a clean sheet, no one had done anything to her…that he'd witnessed…but still…that was his Joss! His wife! Okay, so given the nature of the surgery, it was maybe a little silly to expect that the doctors wouldn't be…clearing the area, but…but…oh God damn it, why was Tig like this with Joss's body being exposed? Particularly when naked women were an encouraged and expected thing in the life, there was scarcely a girl at a SAMCRO party without at least her top off, and that was great, he loved being around that…but he'd never ever ever let Joss be part of that! No! She was his! She was on the consecrated list of divinity! Damn it…it was because he loved that damn girl, it had to be…or, damn it, it could have been that XYY too, doctor bitch had said XYY's could be fiercely attached to and protective of people they loved…and Tig was…Joss…it was okay, no one had ripped her clothes off and felt her up, no one had quietly removed them while she'd been knocked out so they could take some perverted gander…it was okay…no, it wasn't…it really wasn't, Tig wanted to fucking punch someone! She was a beautiful girl, no one could have resisted a daydream or two about what might be under her clothes…under her patch…but no one but Tig was supposed to know! But, realistically, whether he liked to think about it or not, he wasn't the only man to ever see Joss naked…which fucking sucked…she'd been a lot of places, there'd been a lot of assholes treating her like…Fuck! Oh holy fuck! Tig felt himself shiver; his cell phone creaked and cracked in the squeezing grip of his hand that threatened to turn it into a 'U' shape. Tig wasn't the only man to ever see Joss naked…and that's how his beautiful, dark angel had known she was pregnant!


	40. Repossession

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 40

"Ope!" Jax yells, but I've already shook him off once, the next time he grabs my shoulder and tries to stop me, it'll be more than just a warning to let me go, leave me alone; nothing can stop me.

It was Tara who finally came into the waiting room to tell us that Joss was out of surgery, said it had gone well, the bleeding was stopped, the ruptured tube and the pregnancy removed. Joss had one ovary left, she wouldn't need to go on any hormones, which is good; Tara said there was a huge link between artificial hormones and cancer, and Joss is only seventeen…man, she'd never stand a chance being on hormones for as long as she'd need to be! She's lucky…so am I.

But, she's got this surgery to recover from, and even though it was laparoscopic, Tara said that Joss's abdomen and back were likely to be stiff and sore; "crampy" I think is the word she really wanted to use, but Tara knows better than to say that to bunch of guys like us. But I don't care, I'm not afraid of anything; I'll give Joss everything she needs to feel better. The living room couch is hardly big enough for me to sleep on, but when I get her home, she'll have the bed, I'll eke out as many night's sleep on the couch as it takes before she's…before she's ready…before she doesn't want to sleep alone anymore.

Tara didn't stay long, but I guess she couldn't really. It looked like she wasn't long out of surgery herself; she still had that blue-green doo-rag around her head and a mask tied around her neck but off her face. There was a paper bag in her hands, rolled up tightly, that she wouldn't set down anywhere or even take her eyes off of for very long, Jax finally asked about it, and Tara smiled a little, "Oh, it's Joss's personal effects," she said…yeah, must be that Bronze Star that was still clutched in Joss's hand when we got her here. I'm not sure what to do with that star…I don't want her to have it, but then again, I do. She loved Tig, she'll need something left of him for a little while, it might as well be that, but at the same time, I want her to stop thinking about him and move forward…with me. We can never do that if she's got some piece of Tig to hold onto. But taking it away, making her start over with me cold turkey when she was never expecting anything like this to happen…that's cruel, there's no other word for it. But she's mine now, I own her, I can be cruel if I want to be and no one can say anything about it.

Tara was real careful with that bag, she's a good friend, and one of the first things I'm going to do is put Joss and her back together. Yeah, Tara breached some major MC etiquette a while back, but that doesn't matter now, Joss is mine anyway. I always liked seeing the girls together chatting and laughing, I want that back for Joss, she's going to need a friend through this transition, and she and Tara really did have that, a friendship. Other things outside of it…predominantly a big, stupid, murdering, crazy thing with a list of sick fetishes longer than his fabled Johnson…always found a way to stab holes in that friendship until its life dwindled to what it was now. But things would change, I already know how I'm bringing the girls back together; me and Joss and Jax and Tara will roll up north, to farm country, Tara on the back of Jax's bike, Joss on the back of mine. Jax and I can talk this shit out while the girls walk through the orchards, picking grapefruits and feeling how much easier it is to remember why it was that they'd become friends without having Tig to answer to. I have high hopes that little trip fixes us all, that it puts everything back the way it should always have been.

But that trip was still a ways off, Joss wasn't even awake yet. Before she left, Tara told us that a recovery room was being prepared for Joss on the ICU floor, just outside of ICU itself. I know where ICU is, there were like nine different signs for it no matter where you were in this hospital. The waiting room door was barely closed from Tara and that paper bag exiting before I was on my feet, dashing out of it and setting a brisk, determined pace down the hallway in the direction the ICU arrow pointed. But I hadn't gotten very far before Jax was on my tail, yelling at me like I was about to walk off a cliff.

I turn around to face Jax one last time, just so he knows I'm not going to stop, that I'm going up there, I'm on my way to sit with Joss, because she's mine. Only when I look behind me with a face full of scorn, it's not just Jax standing fretfully out in the hallway; it's everyone else too, Clay, Bobby, Juice, Chibs, Sack…but I look back at them all and just shake my head.

Chapter 40; Part 2

"Alright, little girl," Tig was eased back into the chair that was put beside Joss's bed, setting the alarm on his cell. "You got two hours, max! Don't do what you did to me last time!" He said sternly even though Joss was still out. He was talking more for his benefit, he'd just remembered how Joss didn't wake as soon as what they'd said she would with the last surgery she'd had. He wasn't going through that again, that was awful! She was much less beat up looking this time, no casts on her legs or feet or arms, no bumps and bruises and road burn. She looked like his Joss, deeply sleeping. Somehow it made sense in his mind that her physical looks would translate into her waking up a lot sooner this time…and he hoped she would. They had something to discuss, something that Tig wanted to be pissed about her having never told him, but honestly; he couldn't be.

Tara had showed him on the ultrasound where one of Joss's ovaries and tubes had been removed; removed sometime after the surgery to repair damages from the gunshot wound…yeah, it was pretty clear to Tig now just what had become of that first ovary, and it wasn't "scar tissue" as Tara had surmised. There was only one reason for why Joss had tried so hard and so long, jeopardizing her life, to make sure her old man never found out she was pregnant. That reason was the same thing that had made her recognize she was pregnant. This wasn't the first kid Joss had lost, she'd been here before, she knew the symptoms, and they scared the shit out of her. Realizing that she was pregnant…again…was something she truly didn't want to face…and there was only one reason that facing it was so traumatic too. Tig was never supposed to know, no one was ever supposed to know about that. But Tig knew; the pieces put themselves together for him.

Even before Joss's young body began to distinguish any female characteristics, she'd been the victim of sexual abuse. At eight years old she was nearly fatally shot in an unimaginable manner that was painful in so many ways to have to talk about, and even after, the abuse continued. Why, after living with that abuse and her abuser for so long, did Joss suddenly become desperate to kill her father when she was fifteen? What would have driven her to murder after all she'd been finding some way to cope with the abuse for all those years? What changed? Tig had always figured that "enough" had just gotten to be "enough;" everyone has their breaking point…but now he knew what Joss's had been…his poor, sweet, dark angel! The spider monkey was nothing; Tig was stunned that she'd avoided a full time apartment with rubber on the walls. To be knocked up at fifteen was one thing…but knocked up by her own father…fuck…yeah…poor Joss.

He sighed as he looked at her now, she was still submerged in a thick curtain of sleep, far away from everything that had hurt her or could. For as much as Tig longed for her to awaken, he also hoped she just stayed asleep there, in a safety and serenity that he'd failed to give her when he could have and should have. "Joss," he said forlornly and he took her hand in both of his, tried to think of how to put all the chaos inside his head into words, but all he could do was unfold her elegant, white fingers and press her palm to his cheek. As bad as he felt for her, he felt even worse about himself, about what he'd done and hadn't done. Joss didn't talk much about her childhood, about her life before Tig, and even when she would, Tig always stopped her, because he couldn't take hearing it. Every word or description, no matter how vague, only reminded him that he hadn't helped her, he hadn't chosen to save her, though he had all the opportunities in the world to do so. But no, he'd left her to fend for herself. Yeah, he'd showed up after the deed was done, helped her clean up, helped her hide it all from the world, but that was far too little far too late. Joss had a real situation, a real bad situation, and she was begging him to get her out of it…but no, Tig didn't step up, he ignored her, looked the other way…but Donna…Donna he shoots and kills! Jesus fucking Christ…what the hell was wrong with him? Why was he always hurting the wrong people, even when he was earning a Bronze Star?

Tig's eyes closed and he felt the familiar, paralyzing guilt roll through him again, but this time there was the touch of Joss's pale skin on his to keep it from taking him completely over. She was still out, Tig was only pressing her hand to his face, but it didn't matter… it was amazing what just a little bit of contact between them could do. "There's a lotta shit I wish you'd have said," he told Joss, words finally coming despite that she couldn't hear them, "I wish you'd told me all of it, right from the beginning," and Tig hoped like hell that he'd have believed her.

Damn…this funk wasn't easy to shake, but Tig had to find a way to, he didn't want to be the miserable, unstable lump he was fast turning into when Joss did wake up. He had to be strong for her then, he was her husband now, he'd be the first person those pretty, green eyes searched for when they opened, and he didn't want her to see him this way. Now was not the time to be trying once again to resolve the irresolvable…Donna would have to wait yet again…but then, Tig knew she'd always be there, Donna was never going away, she was always standing there on the edge of his mind, holding the small, brown hand of that kid with the water containers, no matter how dead he'd made them…dead babies…

Without realizing it Tig had buried his face in Joss's blankets, right against her ribs, trying to make everything in his mind go away; she'd always helped that to happen. She wasn't awake yet, but he had the beating of her heart to concentrate on and to feel against his lips. She was still deeply sleeping, but Tig swore he'd felt her move just a tiny bit closer against him, like she might curl up around him, and then he felt one finger of the hand that had now slid across the back of his neck stir with a little tremor. Her breathing changed, it was getting slightly faster; so was her heart rate. Her body felt warmer than it was when they'd arrived here, her skin was a good color again; blood was flowing safely through every vein. She'd be okay, so would he…Joss was letting him know that even now, letting him know that this time, he'd saved her.

Shit! He'd almost forgotten her shoes! Well, they were slippers really; big, puffy slippers, definitely not Joss's sexy, goth style…but that's all the stupid gift shop had, but hey, they'd keep Joss from being barefoot. He reached for the bag they were in and stepped to the end of the bed. "I have no idea what your damn shoe size is," he told her as he peeled back the sheet that lay over her. "So I just got whatever reminded me of your feet." Joss would be laughing at him right now, finding this funny, even though he wouldn't understand why. He glanced up at her, hoping that maybe she could hear him now and was opening her eyes and cracking a smile as he took her by the ankle and shoved a fat, fuzzy slipper onto her foot. But no, Joss wasn't waking up, not yet anyway, but she still had lots of time. "They're red," he told her since her eyes were still closed, and pushed the other plushy slipper onto the other foot. "I figured you must like red, you put in your hair."

And then her hair moved…it did! A tiny little flick of her bangs, moved by the split second switch of her eyelashes; Joss's eyes were still closed, but Tig could see them moving beneath the white of her lids, trying to find which way was up again, preparing to open. She was waking up! Tig jumped to his feet, so thrilled and energized now…c'mon Joss…c'mon! "Hey," he said, resisting the urge to grab her shoulders and just shake her the rest of the way awake…he couldn't wait for to be awake now, he couldn't wait to have his wife back! "Joss," he called to her, but she was still lost, hadn't quite found her way back to base camp though she was heading in the right direction…damn, she was so close…what could he do that wouldn't rattle her brain? Hmm…yeah, he could do that…didn't want to…but after sitting here realizing all the ways he'd failed the girl, yeah, she did deserve it from him…finally! "Joss," Tig said again, sighed then tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, forming like some sort of preventive of affectionate speech. But she'd hear him, she was responding to his voice now in subtle ways, her face twitching when Tig spoke to her, her fingers moving like she was trying to grasp something. If he told her this, it would bring her to in an instant. "Joss," he started again, easing the frantic spasms in her hand by once more wrapping his around it, "Joss…baby, I lov—"

Tig stopped dead. The door to Joss's private room suddenly flung open, banging against the wall loudly, and in the doorway, brown hair flying loose, every last inch of his six foot four inch frame pushed out menacingly and eyes filled with raw, abhorrent challenge, was Ope.

Author's Note: I dedicate this chapter to the honor and service of my brother, a Major in the United States Army Reserve, who deployed for Iraq on 3/30/11, 2345 hours. Rob, I love you, stay safe and come home soon! My most heartfelt "thank you" to all the troops, then and now, from every country, for making this world a safer place!


	41. Tag Team

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 41

Tig had been talking to her about something, but all Joss wanted to do was sleep, hovering now in between wakefulness and the firm, drowsy grasp of slumber. But both of those worlds were being disturbed, loud voices, growls, sounds of things being knocked over and broken reaching her through the sleepy veil that had not quite lifted. The noisier it got the more Joss wanted to turn away from waking up, just pull the covers over her head and let Tig deal with…whatever all the noise was, he was good at that kind of stuff anyway. Hmm…but what if that raccoon had broken into the house again via the sliding glass door? Oh please no…not only had he torn the kitchen up looking for the animal crackers that Joss always put out at night for him and his little family group, but he'd made Tig furious. Tig had handled that sudden clamor of noise in the kitchen early one morning too, Joss racing down the steps in time to see Tig throwing oven-mits at the poor raccoon, shouting "Hey" at the little fella so loudly that he beat a path back out the sliver of an opening in the slider. Ever since then when the raccoons saw Tig, they scurried away quickly with wide eyes, like they were saying to one another, "Run! It's the 'hey' guy!" Tig loved animals, he'd never say so, but he did…even got arrested for it once, but that was beside the point. However, raccoons in his house were a bit much…yeah, Joss should get up, go downstairs, and just make sure…wait, that's right, she was at Gemma's house now…no…they were at Evermore…no…no…they'd left Evermore, because they were in a van, on the way to the hospi—Oh God! The voices were getting louder and angrier, the sound of punches being landed began to echo in Joss's head, and her last memory flashed as clearly as the coming attractions of a horror flick…her beast, it had busted loose again…Oh God…she willed her eyes to open, she willed herself to get control…what was she doing? She'd only seen Tig around her the last time she'd been able to see anything…so it had to be him she was tearing up right now…oh please, God, no! Help her stop!

Maybe God had heard her, maybe God was even real, because her eyes suddenly flew open wide, so afraid of what they'd see, expecting her nails to be dug into Tig's vitals, her teeth hooked into some hunk of skin and muscle that the beast was frenziedly trying to chew out of him…but…no…despite the persistent and escalating noises of some kind of combat, Joss didn't have a hold of anyone, no one was being attacked…at least…not by her.

There was no beast, it had gone away, but there was a sudden, hollow, cracking noise that made her head spin in its direction and she was looking at Tig's back, his face hidden from her view still, but she could clearly see Opie's face, the sharp, contortion of pain filling his features as he caved into the hole in the drywall that Tig had knocked him through. What was going on? She must have been at the hospital, she was in a bed, she'd figured that much out, and her belly didn't feel right, not at all. Tig was here, that made sense, he was probably mad as hell at her, but why was he beating up Opie?

But before she could gather any further clues Opie got to his feet once more, leaving the crater in the wallboard left by his back and shoulders, and came out swinging at Tig with first a big left than an even bigger right, Tig stepping out of range of the first, but catching some of the second on his chin. But he only snarled and wound up some kind of close range punch, Bruce Lee style, and with an upwards sweep, hit Ope squarely beneath his jaw, not missing his throat by much. Ope's head jerked back, nose towards the ceiling, stalling any retaliation on his part, but Tig didn't waste the opportunity to get another punch in, this time to Ope's gut, bending him over as all the air in his lungs escaped with a rush, then Tig landed another hammering blow at the base of Ope's neck.

Opie fell to one knee and one hand on the floor, bracing himself as he fought for breath and didn't even try to defy the ache in his neck and look up towards Tig again. Tig stood, arm cocked back, but he didn't move, just glared down at Ope, telling him with a mix of anger and frustration to "just stay down," but it wasn't all command, Joss recognized a note or two of pleading as well.

What…what…she was so astounded that the sentence in her head wouldn't even complete itself; she was at the hospital…she'd had surgery, that old, familiar procedure, she knew what it felt like afterwards, she could feel the bandages sticking to her abdomen, and she had an immense urge to cough from the anesthesia she'd been under. Okay, that had all been handled and dealt with…at least medically speaking…but Tig…and Ope…why was Ope even here? There wasn't any reason for Ope to be here, or for Tig and him to be fighting, they were at Saint Thomas's, this moment should have been all her and Tig…it wouldn't be a good moment, she knew it wouldn't; Tig had the right to do a lot of things to her for not being honest with him…a lot of things. But Ope…he didn't belong here in the middle of her chastising, taking the spotlight…or her beating. This wasn't right, how could it have been? What made it happ—shit! They were at Saint Thomas's…Tara! No…why would Tara have indicated that somehow, Ope was the reason for Joss being pregnant? Why would she still be on that kick? What did she have to gain from it? Hmm…but if she could get Ope and Tig to kill each other, maybe that helped to get Jax back in the number one spot? Who knew, nothing really made sense right now, but the one thing Joss did know what that she had to stop her man from killing his brother!

There was a lot of heavy gasping in the room as Joss began reminding her legs how to move, slowly manipulating her knees to bend, still unnoticed by the brawling brothers, and it was only starting up again. Opie coughed once or twice than he did look up at Tig, in no way discouraged by the pounding he'd already gotten. "You weren't there," he said forcefully to Tig, his words slurred by the blood frothing at his lips. "Four fucking hours, and you weren't there! At a time like this! You know what that means!" And before Joss, or Tig knew it, Ope was on his feet again, balling up his hand and swinging, a big roundhouse that connected along Tig's cheekbone. Tig stuttered backwards into the chair beside her bed, the blood coming in little droplets, all the way down to his neck, Joss noticing now that there was another fist-sized mark balancing the new addition at the opposite corner of his mouth. Oh no, she had to stop this before it went on any further…she had to get her damn feet to listen to her and get on the floor!

"I keep telling you, it ain't like that!" Tig was roaring at Ope, standing up right now and shaking off the fire and ice of the blow, then in a flash shifted his weight towards Ope again and tackled him, gaining the high ground and pulling that arm back once more with vicious intentions. Tig had a mean punch, Joss had seen once what his fists had done to Opie's face…she had to get down there, she had to get Opie out of here and get Tig to calm down…so he could deal with her. But her feet were hung up in the blankets, stuck like they had grown bigger than she remembered. How was that possible? What kind of surgery had she had? Frantically she grabbed the blankets and ripped them off of her, looking down at the most bizarre thing. She was wearing slippers…big slippers…big, red, novelty fifty-seven Chevy shaped slippers…complete with headlights…that were on! A battery pack was evident at the backs of her heels, the slippers shining their high beams up at the ceiling…what…what…no, there wasn't time to try and figure that out!

Tig's fist came firing down into the forearm that Ope was able to throw up just in time, but Tig's other arm was fully loaded and Joss knew he wouldn't miss twice. Her strength unexpectedly returned like a gust of wind, and she was out of bed, goofy slippers and all, staggering her way over to the un-caged cage match in the corner. She could feel that she was a little fragile now, could tell that she'd been taken apart and put back together again, but it didn't matter, she had to—

"Joss!" It was Ope who saw her first and he was horrified to be looking at her, standing there like she was. "Get back in bed!" He yelled with angry worry and shock, and he pointed vehemently at the place she'd left.

At that, Tig quickly turned, forgetting Ope for a moment, but he still had the bloodied face of a mad man. He sneered in Ope's direction while looking at her, "Don't listen to him!" He ordered loudly, but then with even more angry worry and shock, he reiterated, "Get back in that fucking bed!"

Chapter 41; Part 2

"How you doing, bubeleh?" Bobby was pouring some ice water into the Styrofoam cup for her, snapped on a plastic lid, inserted a straw then handed it over to her. How the over-bed table, with the water pitcher, cups and straws sitting on it, hadn't been overturned in the melee Joss wasn't sure; her room had certainly been rearranged, complete with an Opie shaped hole in the wall. Bobby bent over with a sigh as Joss tried to sort herself out, and she watched him set the overturned chair upright again and then took a seat. She hadn't said anything, hadn't even moved to take a drink of her water despite how badly her dry mouth and throat craved it. There was obviously a telling look on her face, because Bobby raised his eyebrows and began shaking his head. "You know none of this shit is your fault," he told her, his finger moving around the room where the fight had been going full tilt only a minute or so ago. Her valiant effort to make it to her wobbly legs and stumble forth in ludicrous slippers hadn't halted the altercation, but it had delayed it long enough for the rest of the club to show up…Clay jumping in the middle of it with a thunderous "God damn it!" before he grabbed both Ope and Tig by their collars, and with the help of the others, dragged them out of the room, ordering Bobby to stay with Joss.

Joss was glad Bobby was with her now, he was someone else she'd always felt safe with, but all she could do was nod in acknowledgement of his attentions. "Then why do I feel like I'm somehow involved?" She asked, already sorting through a massive pile of remorseful words in her head that she'd use to build the Taj Mahal of apologies to Tig as soon as she saw him again. She hadn't gotten a good look at him before Clay hauled him off, she hoped he was okay, hoped there was nothing broken or half hanging off. Tig didn't need that tonight; Joss had already worked him over enough in her own way. She'd fucked up majorly this time, this was almost worse than screwing around on him…she'd had his child inside her and she never once said so, she'd treated Tig's flesh and blood like it was some dirty secret, and not the sacred thing she should have worshipped it as, no matter that the outcome would have been…well, surgical abortion. But worst of all, she'd have to tell Tig everything now; he'd demand to know why she'd keep his own child from him…if he knew why she couldn't talk about that, if he knew why it did what it did to her to have to even know there was another life growing within her…it would change how he saw her. She'd go from being the abused kid who got even to some disturbed, incestuous breed sow…who wanted to look at a vile thing like that and call it "wife?"

"Because when it comes to tension between Tig and Ope, I'm afraid you are involved," Bobby answered, reaching over and straightening some of her blankets again, neatly folding them over for her, doing what he could to comfort her by making her comfortable. He glanced up at her as he worked though, his gaze warm and steady, making Joss faintly smile within the fondness it conveyed. She needed that now, she needed to know that someone still loved her. Bobby patted her hand, acting more Jewish mother than uncle. "Still don't mean it's your fault, though."

Again Joss nodded, but there were still so many things she was trying to forget and remember and attach words to that she'd need when she talked to Tig. She was on the edge of a bad story she'd have to tell, and even if Tig didn't reject her afterwards…reject her…he wouldn't really, would he? No…he probably wouldn't, Joss was confident enough now in the powerful entity that was their love to know he wouldn't spurn her…at least, not over the initial pregnancy thing…but…she'd have to tell him that being repeatedly raped and so intimately wounded by her own father wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to her…the bastard had violated her body in other ways, by planting his seed in it. Oh…having to think about that, having to know she'd gone through it, that it had happened to her, still made her shudder and want to cry and scream and just…pull her own insides out in an effort to not be made up of any part that her father had defiled…disturbed, incestuous breed sow…what if that finally was too much for Tig to deal with? What if it killed his desire for her? No…no…no…Joss repeated the word in her head, trying to make herself believe it. She was Tig's…she was Tig's…she was Tig's…why, oh why couldn't the feral dominance of their love somehow ablate not only the memories of what she'd suffered for so long, but also erase the existence of the events themselves, remove them from her past like ripping pages from a book?

"Hey, drink some of that water, you're looking a little peaked," Bobby ordered, "You're not falling out on my watch, kid. There's enough happening right now."

Joss lifted the straw to her lips, taking a sip of water like Bobby had told her, realizing how parched her throat was from the intubation and quickly taking another. The cooling moisture in her mouth was enough to bring her forward again, still haunted by the things that wouldn't shut off in her mind, but able to think beyond them now, deciding to gather what intelligence she could. "How's Tig?" She asked, strategies anxiously waiting to be accordingly planned around the reports of her man's mood. "I mean, aside from the obvious."

Bobby shrugged, "don't know really," he said, and Joss's stomach drew painfully tight for a moment. "He's been with you damn near the whole time, honey. A V-Rod Muscle wasn't dragging him away."

Joss smiled, at last some real words of comfort being heard out of Bobby's mouth. No, Tig wasn't leaving her over this, or anything else…but she'd still have to tell him, and hope to God that it didn't change who she was in his eyes. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, that superfluous sympathy had no place in what they shared. If Tig felt sorry for her, then it would mean he also saw her as being weak…she couldn't have that, there was no place for weakness in the passionate chaos they'd captured between the two of them. The might and force of their obsessive love was fed directly by the strength within both of them…that strength had to be maintained, or the very thing that bound them would devour them whole. But Tig had refused to leave her, even after he'd learned about the child within her…he had to have been told by now…and he'd stayed. Joss wanted that to feel good, to feel secure, but it didn't, not yet. But it was possible to be a bit more settled now and lose the "deer in headlights" essence. She took another long drink of the cold water, closing her eyes as it slid down her sore throat. Exactly what had happened earlier between Tig and Ope she still didn't understand, but Clay was right to leave Bobby here. His presence alone was soothing; Tig would always be what she needed most, but if she couldn't have him, then Clay, or Bobby were the next closest things to family she'd ever had. But what had happened between Tig and Opie? Her eyes opened again, and she was looking at the wall. "So who gets to tell the hospital about the renovations over there?"

Bobby looked at the broken and compressed wallboard and pursed his lips, shaking his head, figures and ledgers obviously flipping through is 'Treasurer of SAMCRO" brain. "Those two pinheads," he muttered sort of to himself, and that actually made Joss feel another smile faintly taking shape on her face. "It's not my decision, but I'd say that's on Opie." Bobby surprised her by saying. Opie? Really? Despite that he was who Tig had thrown through the wall? Bobby looked back at Joss again, immediately responding to her look of confused surprise. "Tig not being in the waiting room with all of us somehow got Ope to thinking that your old man had run out on you, and Ope came trucking up here with a puffed out chest, ready to claim you as his, and that's when he bounced right off of Tig."

"What?" She'd asked it out loud this time; that was a stunning turn of events! How could she ever belong to anyone Tig? How could anyone even think of her belonging to anyone but Tig? When there was no more Tig, there'd be no more her either, Tig had promised her that! Oh God…Joss hoped that promise would hold up! She was descending into panic again, a thought paralyzing fear that would do nothing to aid her; no, she wouldn't feel that, she wouldn't let it win, and somehow she pushed through it, Opie's name immediately springing forth in her thoughts. Wow, she'd always thought of Ope as being more balanced than that! Tig not being within his eyesight had truly suggested to Ope that Tig had ducked out for good? Opie…she'd thought he was, well…normal. "Really? That's what the fight was over?"

Bobby was nodding, obviously not about to say anymore than that; further details would come from Tig, if Tig even wanted her to know. "See?" Bobby asked her; then got to his feet, apparently still not happy with the configuration of her covers. "Not your fault," he repeated and one more time tried to straighten the sheet and overlying acrylic blend blanket, pulling it up closer to her chest, gently taking one of her arm and lifting it so he could secure the blanket around her better, tucking her in. "Now get some rest," he told her as he returned to the chair with a heavy sigh of regret that he couldn't take away what he knew she was feeling in spite of his best efforts. "You've been through a lot."

Joss nodded, Bobby had no idea how right he was! But she took another long drink of water and then leaned back, relaxing against the mattress despite how unfulfilled she was concerning the fight still, and how afraid she was of the coming talk with Tig. But right now, it was far easier to think about the fight. "It's so strange," she said, but knew Bobby couldn't elaborate any further than he already had. "I really thought Tig and Ope were getting along better."

Bobby turned his head and gave her a look that showed how un-fooled by anything he'd been. "So did they," he said, and then gave the trashed room another once over, almost like the conflict had been expected. "So did they."


	42. Love Hurts

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 42

"Your head in a better way than that shoulder yet?" Clay takes a seat next to me on the concrete bench outside of the emergency room entrance. I came out here to smoke, I'm actually on my third cigarette, but I know there was more than nicotine urging me to get away from everyone. The entire hospital was starting to close in on me, trapping me in between how stupid I was and how impenetrable the compulsion was to run back to Joss's room and…and…what? Do what? Tig was never gone…on some level, I was always aware of that; it's frightening how much a man can yearn for a woman though, and what that longing can do to him.

It's dark out here, that's why I came outside. I felt like maybe everything haunting me wouldn't be able to find me in the dark. But it did, even before Clay showed up. I hurt practically everywhere, still taste blood in my mouth. I'm not sure why Tig didn't just kill me, but the fire in my belly when I take a deep drag of the cigarette kind of makes me wish he did. Damn, he about punched right through to my kidneys, I won't be surprised if I'm pissing blood in the morning. But there's more than just aches, pains and bandages pawing at me here on this bench, and I'm all out of sharp sticks to keep backing them off with.

There's a few scraggily trees relying on the support of wires and spikes that hold them upright against the heaviness of the world around them. I could use the same kind of support right now. I'd like to say I can't believe what I was thinking, but I can…I do…and I can't even say for certain that I wouldn't do it again, only harder next time, get the job done. Clay has to know this; he wouldn't be sitting here next to me in the chilly night air now if he didn't. In a way it was Clay I was trying to avoid the most by coming out here, he's got the most to say about the shit I pulled, it's his club I ultimately disrespected. But, there's no more running now, there's only accepting the ass chewing I've got coming and hoping it ends with that, at least for tonight. Tig; some justice was due to him, I'd have to pay, somehow. He broke my nose, broke my shoulder blade, but none of that counts, he'll get a bigger pound of flesh out of my mind altering weakness for Joss.

I take a last drag from my cigarette, trying to feel the usual effervescence that had hooked me on menthols, realizing until this moment that for years I'd been taking that enjoyable tingle for granted. "It's hard to tell what's 'better' and what's 'worse' right now." I say to Clay as I crush out the butt, and then realize I sound like I'm trying to drum up some sympathy within him. I don't mean to be, but truthfully I wouldn't refuse it if came.

Clay nodded, "Wedding really fucked with you, huh?" I'm surprised that he asks that, but just as I'm feeling grateful that he understands, Clay latches onto the plastic piece that adjusts the tightness of the sling my left arm is in and pretends to be correcting it, but gives it a purposeful jerk, the ruthless throbbing in my shoulder radiating all throughout my chest, but I'm now reminded that he's not happy, and this isn't done yet.

I'm waiting for the pain to ebb before I try to talk and have it show in my voice, but it is dissipating into faint echoes now, calling to me through rocky caverns as it searches for and finds my bygone assurance that Tig left for good and Joss was…mine. I'm such an idiot. I look over at Clay, "yeah," is all I say and I can't help now but wonder why it's easier to get along with him than it is with Tig. Clay gave the go ahead, he approved what he thought was my murder, but was actually Donna's. I should hate him too, I should have been thinking how I was getting Joss away from him just as much I was getting her away from Tig, but no; Clay's not in that quagmire…the call was his, he'd made it, but that decision was based on the intelligence of his paranoid Sergeant at Arms, who pushed and pushed for the hit. Based on the shit that Tig dug up and crookedly connected, I can't say that I'd have made a decision any different than the one Clay had if it had been my call. I don't forgive him outright, I never will, but my relationship with Clay is workable, a little rough around the edges, but we can both handle it; Tig should have confirmed his target, that's standard execution, and that he didn't isn't on Clay. Me and Tig…it just seems to go from bad to worse…I don't know what the hell he was thinking when…when do I ever know what he's thinking, or if he's even capable of thinking?

Clay sighs, for a one percenter he all of sudden seems like my high school principle easing authoritatively back behind his desk, so tickled to have nailed the troublemaker, about flex his administrative muscles and hand me a notice of suspension. "There could be a lot of fall out over this," he says with the wisdom of all that he's seen. "Claiming someone else's property? That's stealing, Ope. You know that, don't you?"

God damn it…do I really want Joss that badly? Yeah…I guess do. I nod my head at Clay again but I stare straight ahead into the parking lot and the horseshoe drive that cuts underneath the new overhang of the hospital. What really made me think I'd be walking out the automatic doors, out into that horseshoe drive, under the shelter of that new overhang, with Joss on my arm? "I'll take what's coming my way." I tell Clay, because what other choices do I have?

"I know you will," Clay replies with a confident and ever so slightly proud tone in his voice, reaching for a cigar inside his cut. This suddenly feels kind of casual now, but I don't know why, it shouldn't, and I have no right to relax. I'm standing on the steps of the gallows after all, why Clay is commemorating that with a cigar I don't wholly want to understand, but he seems like maybe he's dealt with this as much as he's going to tonight, "Tig's in the chapel," he says, biting down on the cigar and fishing for his cutter and lighter, "Wants to see you."

The wind kicked up just then as if on cue; the gimpy little trees bending back like trying to duck the blow. "Now?" I ask, but I wish immediately I hadn't, that wasn't helping my case any or making me look the "I'll do my time" badass I'd been trying to pull off.

Clay cocks his head, sarcasm filling his eyes. "Na, he said he'd like to wait there for a week or two," he answers with a sardonic grin, "get in some hardcore meditation shit we never knew he was into."

Shit…yeah, I deserve to be laughed at like that, I'm who set this whole damn thing rolling…rolling right overtop of me! I brace myself on the bench with the hand of my good arm and push myself up, feeling just how off balance I am now that my center of gravity is sort of tucked up like this; I don't have another round in me, but if that's what Tig wants to see me for in the chapel, well…then I'm really my own reason for why I'm about to walk into another ass kicking. But it's not fair, it's not right. Okay, I stole, I understand that…now…but Tig…he did a lot more than steal…he killed my wife! What I did in no way measures up to that, there's no way anyone will ever be able to tell me that Tig and I are even now…we'll never be even.

It's hard to control myself as I stand, trying to ignore everything inside of me, but those stupid trees, they just keep on taking hit after hit from the breeze, the slightest current of fresh air all but uprooting the damn things. I came out here to get away from what was in there and now I want to get back in there to get away from these poor excuses for landscaping. Tig…might as well have it out and have it over…I'd obviously lived through worse. "Fine," I say to Clay, going stone face, turning and beginning to methodically walk off, but inside I feel like I'm playing middle linebacker again, running my route beneath the overhang and rushing at those automatic doors like there's a quarterback behind them.

"Ope," Clay suddenly calls, breaking my focus and I'm shocked by how near to him I still am. I turn; the orange glow of his cigar as he takes it out of his mouth waving like a signal flare at some stranded victim, to let them know rescue was coming. "Tig's wanted things that weren't his too," Clay tells me, then spits like it's some effort to rid himself of a bad memory. "But, you don't tell him I said a damn thing."

Author's Note: Thanks so much to all who have been reading and especially commenting!:-) I know you're all anxious for "Tijo" to reunite, as am I! They will soon, I promise…but I've dug myself in pretty deep with some psychological goo-goo, and there was no way I could have gotten this chapter to end where I had envisioned it ending. I respect your opinions and your readership too much to give you a half-a$$ed chapter, so I ended this one here, and hope to give you what you want by the end of Chapter 43. Sorry, but thanks for hanging in there…this stuff just gets away from me.


	43. Kaishakunin

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 43

"You got no fucking idea what we are," Tig couldn't help baring his teeth a little when he said it to Ope, who just stood, didn't move, didn't sigh, didn't roll his eyes. Tig reclined into the pew a bit then brought both his feet up to rest on the back of the pew in front of him, looking like he owned this little chapel, or at least like it had been built for him. "That little girl and me, what we got, it ain't human, it ain't alive, it ain't dead…" strangely, Tig really didn't know what he was saying, but he knew exactly what he was talking about, the words coming to him from some place that didn't feel like his jumbled mind though, but it felt good to be saying them. "Hell, even when she and I are asleep, this thing between us is climbing the walls and ripping holes in the roof to howl at the moon…"

Maybe Ope was quiet because he was too smart to try and have a conversation with crazy, what Tig was spouting had to sound delusional to Ope, but to Tig, it couldn't have been clearer, he'd never defined it better than that. Damn…Joss…the words Tig heard himself saying made him burn to be with her, to touch her skin, to hold her to him and feel her inside of him like she was his restless soul. But he had to deal with Opie, an answer was finally within sight to this triangle that fate had formed; this had to end, none of them were free until it did.

And then Ope did shrug one shoulder, the only one that would move now, but his face, his expression never changed. He looked hard, like a lifer at the gray bars motel, and he might as well have been, too. Joss was never going to be his, but if he couldn't see that, or kept trying for her in spite of what had perhaps occurred to him by now, then yeah, Ope was locked up for life. But Tig had been sitting in this chapel, deep in thought, smithing the key that would open the cell Ope had locked himself up in. "Look," Ope began, trying to sound agitated, trying to peer at Tig through angry eyes. "I was wrong. What do you want?"

"There's no saying 'sorry,' don't even try!" The words were out of Tig's mouth quickly, orders flying fast and directly just like they did when he wore gold lieutenant bars on his shoulders. "There may be a lotta 'sorry' between you and me, but it's all worthless shit, and you know it as well as I do. We gotta find something else, man, cuz that shit ain't working, never did."

Tig saw Ope nod, it was slight, like maybe Ope didn't realize he'd replied to Tig's statement, but now Ope was quiet again. He was also in rougher shape than Tig, tape over the bridge of his swollen nose, black eyes darkening; one arm laid up for likely the next week or two…shit, why'd it have to be like this? It would be another well intended gesture that was like trying to fill up a cup with a hole in the bottom, but Tig was already making plans to kick some of his own pay Ope's way at the garage; how could the guy work on engines like that? Besides, Tig was alright, he could get by with his damages, even refused to be treated in the ER for the gash on his cheek and the split at the corner of his mouth. He didn't have time to sit and have hydrogen peroxide and betadine dabbed over his most recent imperfections, he just wanted to get to the solitude of this chapel, and think about what had already been emerging from the deepest and darkest pits of his mind, help it to be born, and raise it into something good. Opie definitely had a place when it came to Joss, Tig definitely would need a guy like Ope one day.

"She's mine, Ope." Tig began, on the path now, meandering his way to where this conversation would end, but it wasn't the kind of thing that could just be said with no schooling around it first. Ope had to get it through his head that Joss belonged to Tig and that she always would, that the thing they had was going to hold onto them both forever. Tig had tried to outrun it for years himself, but the pressure of its bite was the only constant in his life. "The damn girl's all mine, wrapped up in every single one of my twisted coils twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She's got me in ways I don't even fucking understand, she's got like some…adaption needed to cling to all my steep, rocky, inhospitable climbs." The words were flowing like never before, it was cool, but at the same time Tig began to wish it would stop…'steep, rocky, inhospitable climbs?' What the hell was she; a goat? But there was no denying that Joss had won the heart that Tig had cut out of his own chest so many times, she'd sewed it back together and tattooed her name across it, then kissed it until it began to beat again. She had her own broken harshness too, nothing but barbs and shards and rusted nails that made her impossible to hold; teeth and claws that would shred anyone who even tried. No, she could never be anything but Tig's. "She needs my crazy, Ope." Tig felt like he was channeling doctor bitch, dolling out both a diagnosis and a prescription…damn, maybe that's why he'd felt like he had to get back to this chapel? This was where he'd found out what he was! "Joss is too fucked up to survive out there without having my crazy to hide her own inside of; I'm bigger and stronger than her in a lotta ways, that's one of them too. If you can't give her that, then one day that spider monkey's going to jump out and she'll end up ripping herself apart instead of someone else."

"She needs professional help," Ope's voice came as a surprise, he still had that hard look to him, but his eyes were masking a lot behind them, doubt, even some fear and a lot of confusion. Tig had never referred to Joss's breaks as "spider monkey" out loud before, but he could tell that doing so had just put a more fearsome and terrible image in Ope's head. Good, he had to get this; it was his only chance at freedom.

But the notion of psychiatric care pissed Tig off and he growled as he set a harder look on Ope than Ope was capable of portraying. "You wanna know what the 'professional help' is for that?" He asked daringly, his feet hitting the floor again and he leaned forward threateningly, eyes narrowed, blood throbbing through his veins. "Lithium, Haldol, Thorazine; so much of that shit she'll just be a fucking zombie!" Tig was already yelling, but he just kept taking it up a notch, so angry at Ope's suggestion and working so hard to make him understand. "I been through it all before, just suppress the monkey, keep it suffocated, even if it that means wiping out who Joss is, the good things about her, kill the nice girl, the sweet, beautiful, perfect angel she is in order to kill that one piece of her from ever coming out again! That's 'professional help!' That's what you want for her?"

Ope gasped, glanced away from Tig and looked back at him again with another burst of foolish bravado. "I want her to be—"

"What? Normal?" Tig bellowed, up on his feet and stalking towards Ope, "she ain't normal, Ope! She's like me, full of broken…trusts and promises that just keep on smashing the hell outta every sense we got! I'm sweatin' my nuts off trying to save her from getting as bad as me, but some day, I'm not going to be here to keep her safe anymore, and then…" Tig's rage suddenly cut off along with his breath, replaced by the truest fear he'd ever felt. He sighed, every tensed, going to war muscle, deflating as he just looked down and shook his head helplessly, "and then…I really am afraid to fucking think about it…"

The chapel fell silent again, Tig too swarmed by that darkness to get to his next point, and Ope…well, he was completely sidelined. Tig wanted to make him understand and it looked like he did now, after a few moments of mute contemplation Ope flung himself down in a pew and exhaled loudly, his head falling into his good hand, his elbow on his knee. He looked almost like he was in here praying, and maybe he even was, but it was Tig who would answer that prayer, it was Tig who knew what the only answer to all of this was.

"I coulda killed you, you know." Tig said at a normal decibel, moving to the pew behind the one Ope had dumped himself into. Ope flinched at his words, then so did Tig…yeah, it was Ope he'd meant to kill…once. But, wasn't that why they were here? Wasn't that what had opened the doors and shoved them into the cells they were all in? "Would have been good with the club if I had, but—"

"You understand," Ope's interruption was practically in monotone, and he raised his head to look back at Tig like he had some kind of "free card" to play. "You and Gemma…I watched that go on for years, just never realized it until—"

"Shut up!" Tig ground out between clenched teeth, not about to let that weaken where he was going with things, it had no bearing on any of it. But fuck, yeah…that was also part of the reason Tig had pulled a few punches that could have so easily split the other side of Ope's face open, Tig did understand. "Donna," Tig almost barked, the name exploding in such an unceremonious way. He'd meant to get where he was in a much slower, more controlled manner; he did have some respect for Ope's feelings, though that sentiment could never have been derived from how he'd just handled things. He shook his head quickly, squeezed his eyes shut so he didn't have to see the despair crossing Ope's face again. "She saved you tonight, Ope. I couldn't…" but now he couldn't speak any longer, his words disappearing like water in a drying riverbed.

There was another long silence, Ope looking away again. "Shut up," he finally returned, but it was almost whispered.

Tig felt himself waver a bit on the inside, that hole within him was gaping open again, hungry for another smoke, another shot of whiskey, another snort of coke to try and fail to fill it up. "Like I said, sorry don't cut it, man." He ran one hand through his hair then down his face, tried to make more pain erupt from the two punches that Ope had landed. He thought about the first beating he'd taken from Ope over Donna, the beating he'd begged for, and remembered how empty it had left him feeling. Fighting never solved anything; at least, it didn't solve this. "We gotta find another way, Ope."

Ope remained hunched over, hardly moving. "How?"

Tig took a deep breath; at least Ope seemed to agree even if he didn't quite believe there was another way. But there was; Tig's omnipotence was long in coming, but finally it had. Tig was Joss's "God." His love for her and her love for him was their religion. And Joss was now a Madonna, the vessel that had carried their messiah, an unborn prophet who spoke its message without words; the physical bodies of Tig and Joss combined into one, never to be separated. And Ope had thought he could so easily come between them? No, that was not Opie's lot, he was meant to answer a different calling. "Twenty-five years between me and Joss," Tig said, but sounded like he was rambling, and he was, for all the control he'd had earlier, and the lack of interruptions from his usual "commercial breaks," now it was becoming difficult to say what he meant. "I die before that damn girl…you send her to me."

Ope's head rose with a jerk that made him grimace in pain, but he looked quickly back at Tig with an incredulous expression. "What?" Ope stared at him like he didn't understand, but it was only because Tig could tell he did understand, he just didn't want to. The pew Ope sat in creaked as Ope turned his big upper body around now to face Tig, still looking at him like he didn't believe that this was the answer. "Are you craz—"

"Yeah!" Tig reminded staunchly, and then leaned forward towards Ope, bound and determined to make him see the fairness and the freedom of what he was proposing. "I told you everything, man. I told you about my little girl and what she needs and why she needs me; she won't last long without me, Ope." Tig sighed, it was good to be saying all of this, but it was still going to be tough to get Ope's promise that he'd be there when Joss needed him, in the way she'd need him. "Don't let her take herself out, Ope. I don't want her going down like that, she deserves better than to lose like that." Again Tig paused but it was to watch Opie's eyes close and the will to disagree be overshadowed by the weak nod of his head, but there was still resistance, there was still enough of what Ope thought was right fighting off the only thing that could free him. But he had to understand, he had to feel it, it was the truth; Ope had to live with knowing that one day he'd be responsible for killing Joss, it would grant him the indifference towards her that a rancher took towards the beef he raised. He'd be free. They'd all be free. "Joss wants it this way, Ope," Tig continued, slowly enclosing Ope into this dark cocoon that would finally let him emerge as his own man again, free of things he couldn't change and couldn't have. "It's an eye for eye," he said, leaning closer to Ope, putting a hand on his good shoulder and ignoring the tears that were collecting at the corners of Ope's eyes. "It's the only way."

Author's Note: Okay, I promise, the next chapter is all "Tijo!":-)


	44. Forbidden Fruit

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 44

"It's done, baby," Tig was whispering when he had the chance, his voice a soft, breathless, moist whisper against her neck, his cheekbone gashed, the taste of blood evident in his kiss from the nick at the corner of his mouth. He needed care, and Joss ached to give it to him, fought to grab tissues and dunk them into her water pitcher, tried to press the cool, cleanness to Tig's battle scars, but he was like Sam whenever Joss tried to put a halter on him, tossing his head and grunting. Tig grabber her around both biceps, shaking the compress she'd made out of her hand and pushing her back against the mattress, pinning her with his weight and kissed her again like her lips, her body held the only trusted cure. He was ailing, that was clear; she could feel him burning with fever, infecting her with every touch. "It's done," the words hissed through his lips against hers; his breath hot, his voice worn. Joss wasn't sure what he meant, but so often when affectionate words flooded Tig they morphed into this kind of cryptic language. He raised his head to look down at her, letting her go long enough to touch her face and cup her jaw, beholding her with a solemn, but loving gaze. "It's done," he repeated, his voice still under the spell that they'd cast over each other as soon he'd taken her hand in the hallway, walking beside her bed as she was wheeled to her new room. There was no need to be so near ICU any longer, Joss had come out of anesthesia in record time, and her old room was now in need of some repairs.

But when the CNA had come to push her bed, and her, down the hallway to the elevator, another dread pushed at Joss. Bobby was right, she had been through a lot tonight, and that was more than likely where these asinine thoughts and feelings kept twisting their way free, but something felt so terrifying about being moved away from the last place she'd seen Tig. He didn't know they were moving her, he wouldn't know where she was, it felt like being abducted. She did her best to belay her alarm, wouldn't let herself cry, she just looked to Bobby, begging him to go find Tig and tell him they were moving her…she wanted Tig, she needed Tig…and Tig had come to her, heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway behind her, followed by his voice; he was running to her.

Again Tig kissed her, more than Joss's mouth moving with his despite the achiness in her abdomen; his presence eliminating the power of pain. He smiled at her as he stared into her eyes, which was so strange; it was like he was saying "I do" to her all over again. "You and me, in the ground," he told her and combed her disheveled, black hair away from her face as if he wanted to see her even better. "It's done; we'll never be apart again, just like you wanted."

Joss felt herself welling up, the details were in no way clear, but right now they didn't matter. "Really?" she gasped, so many things in need of discussion, but all of them, save for this one, pushed aside from this fraught and frantic need to touch one another. Oh, this was not what Joss had envisioned happening when Tig returned to her. There were too many things that should have been going badly right now, he should have been so so angry with her…maybe he still was, but it was feeling less and less likely. They were close together now, shrouded in the core of what they were; bound to one another so tightly in this moment of reunion that nothing else could reach them through it. It had been two years since her last ectopic surgery, but she still remembered her recovery instructions: one injection of Methotrexate to assure the pregnancy was gone, no heavy lifting, no bending or squatting down, no sexual intercourse for four to six weeks. But the rules were gone now, they didn't matter; her only rules would be the ones Tig gave her, his demands were the only ones she could hear. He'd more than had the right to make these decrees, she was his wife, he owned her…he loved her…there had been no one to wrap her in their sturdy arms when she'd awakened two years ago, there'd been no one to kiss her in such a soul baring way, so softly but so violently, a wolf nuzzling her wounds as it lapped at her blood.

He was above her as the world seemed to melt around them, his strong arms like some needful garment around her, the pressure of his embrace consuming her against his broad chest as if he hadn't held her for years. Tig's body, his weight against her had always been the realest thing Joss had ever felt in life, the solidness of Tig's frame, the unstoppable way he took what he wanted, repaying his debts in the security his strength represented and the mania that was his love for her. She was his and he'd fight for her; he always had…even now. Her lips worked against his, opening and closing, a conversation with no words, each touch expressing the power over one another they held. The rough, dark hairs on his upper lip and chin ate her skin alive at each pass, but Joss reveled in the burn, giving Tig her throat to tear into if he wished it, pushing her chest up against his with an impatience to have her hands free. She'd torn at the pearl, snap buttons of his shirt at their first tangling, his chest was bare against her heaving, clothed breasts, but Joss wanted his shirt gone; she wanted his skin beneath her hot palms, her fingers vicariously twisting within the sheets between Tig's fettering hold and her own hip. He was terrified of hurting her; that was evident in every twitch of his movements, a physical pang of guilt that harassed every pleasure he took from her recovering body. His hard, heavy eight inches of cock pounded an urgent tempo against her bandages, her body given an order and dying to comply, but Tig wouldn't let her move, wouldn't let her touch him, just covered her body with his as he sucked at her lips and skin like he possessed some venom to dissolve her into liquid and take her completely within himself where she'd be safe forever. She could do nothing but lay between her bed and his cautious hunger, whimpering softly against his ear until his mouth slowly found hers again, offering the sustenance of his taste and the touch of his tongue.

Joss wore nothing beneath her smocky gown and her fingers could move just enough to gain control of its hem, easing it up her thighs, feeling each roll of exasperated muscle beneath Tig's hot skin as his restraint slithered away. He was tense above her now, fully aware of all she did and of all she wanted him to have, but he braced himself, fighting to keep harm from coming to her. It was too late though…the furor had been joined; they travelled like heat into one another's bodies, fires burning away fears…it was done…they'd never be parted.

Tig's breathing was ragged as his arm tore loose from around her, his hands racing for his belt, cock quavering angrily within the denim that contained it. Joss drank in his urgency, feeling in every physical center she had the need consuming her man, not just the need to cum, but to fuck. She wasn't sure what damage it would do, but she didn't care, it was their wedding night after all and it felt like they'd fought so hard to finally have this time together, she couldn't stop him anymore than she had strength or common sense enough to stop herself. Her legs spread around him as Tig's fingers trembled with his hesitation, the desperation of his desire winning out, fly coming undone.

Joss suddenly realized the freedom that Tig's busy hands had granted her. Her eyes shifted from the buckle of his belt and what he was about to reveal to her, to the broad, hard chest she'd been struggling to touch since tearing his shirt open; finally it was hers. Her hands snuck away from her sides, reaching outwards, fingertips already soft in response to the future of his skin beneath them, her whole arm shuddering with her want as her hands moved forward, moving slowly, not wanting to distract Tig, just to feel him, just to have his power in her grasp. Her fingers were now teased by the brush of dark, curled hairs against them, the heat and sweat of his skin palpable, so close, so close…and then gone.

Tig's hands left their half accomplished task, swooping in after her prying fingers like a hawk snatching a sparrow. "No!" He half commanded and half begged her, holding both her wrists tightly now and breathing like he'd been subjected to some prolonged, arduous torture. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes a moment, Joss wanting to fight her hands free, but she didn't; her eyes on Tig and the careworn state he was in. "I'm sorry," he panted in a weak voice, his eyes opening again. "It's too much…" he was shaking his head, struggling to put this irrationalness into the right words despite what ran wild within him. He wanted to fuck, to bury himself inside her and he was going to, his mind and body were both set, it wasn't the fear of hurting her that had startled him this time. "I can't," he said to her in a familiar tone, but with a bit more emergency attached to it, "I married you tonight, Joss…then…blood…the kid…the hell your father put you through, us in the ground…" his words came as some flood of consciousness, Joss shrinking back at his mention of her father, suddenly feeling so naked and ashamed before Tig…he knew…he knew, oh God, he knew…but it was lost in everything else tearing him apart. Tig was calming, the words that survived the stress of being said giving him some relief, but not enough. "I'm feeling too much shit and it's got no place to go…I'm hanging by a fucking thread, little girl…if you touch me…" he looked sorry, he didn't like disappointing her, but he was still horror-struck by the typhoon of emotions that raged within him, "I just can't, baby…I just can't."

The strongest man she'd ever known was on his knees above her, shaking, frozen in the fear of this new intimacy. He was in possession of not just her, but all of her secrets now too, there was nothing that Joss knew that Tig didn't know now, the last barrier that put any distance between them had been torn down; they were truly, as Tig had once said, "raw meat against raw meat." It was a powerful thing, seeping into them like the influence of some dulcet demon…Tig knew all, this final piece of Joss's battered core digging a new grave inside of him…their child…her man had accepted all of it and only loved her more within it. Joss had wanted to touch him so badly, but a tear slid from her eye as a new trance befell her. They were scar to scar and soul to soul; touches were almost cheap and tawdry baubles in the wake of that.

"Shhhhh," she soothed, not trying to move, holding Tig so preciously in her gaze, stepping into the role assigned her by the new thing they shared. Tig had been swimming these seas alone for hours now, and he was worn out, his head slipping below the surface. She was his only rescue. She went soft in his grasp, giving him a look of gentleness, his safe place to land, "What do you want me to do? Tell me."

The fright was leaving his eyes, the quivering coming to an end as Tig relaxed, returning her hands to the mattress, but keeping her wrists pinned there above her head, but more because Joss knew he just needed something to hold onto. He lowered his head, bowing it as he inhaled, eyes closed; his chin on his bare chest, still hiding from something. "Tell me you love me."

Of course, it was what she'd thought he'd say, a comfort he needed beyond any other at this moment. "I love you," Joss spoke the words as if they were part of a prayer, expecting next to feel herself smothered in the grip of Tig's mass, clinging to her like a life raft upon these stormy waters, his arms darting around her and pulling tight enough to bruise bones; but no…

Gradually Tig lifted his head again, the motion deliberate but timid, his eyes finding hers and his heavy breath ceasing to be so uneven and uncontrolled, this new sense they shared settled deep inside him now. His sweat gleaming chest rose and fell quickly, but steadily, his grip on her tightening, the need for that extra security overwhelming. He looked at her, 'do or die' written in the creases of his brow, hammer cocked. "I love you too."

What? What? An upstart of breath stormed its way into Joss's lungs, her jaw falling open as she took those words inside her, breathed them in as they hung in the air, but there was no time to react further. Tig ducked his head down again, diving back under the surface of the current he'd been straining against, letting it carry him now into white water, her gown somehow pushed up around her waist and his maddened cock free, its heat slammed not deep within her but into the bend of her thigh.

Tig's arms encased her, his kiss drawing her tongue into his mouth and holding it there as he bent his leg up against her hamstring, aligned his pelvis against hers and secured his big cock as deeply against her as he could. He was rough even in this protection of her, his hand clenching her hip now, rasping fingers grazing down her thigh and pulling it up to his own hip, trapping his feverish erection tightly against her body as he did, and he groaned deeply, his eyes closing and his breath quickening. All his muscles grew taut and then exploded, moving fiercely, thrusting at her insanely, Joss, still so stunned, putting all her effort into keeping her thigh closed around his deprived organ, fucking her hard, but allowing her only a hint of the pleasure it could be giving her. But that was fine, she didn't fight for more, this was not about her pleasure, this was about Tig's need, this was letting him take what he required to be at ease with what they now shared. Joss's satisfaction came in just feeling his thrusts, even if they weren't into her, it was ecstasy to feel his cock vibrating and growing against her skin, her man lost to the gratification it was bringing him, hungry to finish, his body inconsolable in its dependency for hers, but so in command. He pumped hard then harder, his big, tight balls slapping the dampness that trickled from the lips of her begging slit and Joss would have shoved herself into him for more had her muscles been strong enough, but finally, Tig's body shook like electricity had shot through him and he moaned deep in his chest, freezing suddenly with all his weight bearing down against her, cock squirming where it was nestled and Joss bathed in the feel of his release in all its sticky warmth.

He was a heavy, limp thing against her now, not strong enough to move yet, but Joss wouldn't have let him if he could. She wanted him here, the realest thing she'd ever felt in her life, awash in the mania that was his love for her. Tig had said he loved her, looked right at her and said it, reached inside her with the words and plucked her heart like a piece of time sweetened fruit…it was done, they'd never be apart again, just like she wanted…and he knew…oh God, he knew…


	45. And Thee Shall Receive

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 45

"This is also probably why I do all the stupid shit I do!" The revelation was out of the blue, Tig's voice tight with the excitement of such a wondrous explanation as he looked back down at Joss, holding up the injured finger he'd long forgotten about. "I mean, who the fuck sticks their hand in a piranha tank?"

Joss giggled, bundled next to him in her hospital bed, nestled in the crook of his arm, covering her mouth with one hand as she laughed, like she was trying to hide it. Her head never lifted from his chest, she just snuggled more against him, still seeking to be closer…and safer. Yeah, she may have been laughing, and she may have been just as stoked as he was about Tig being an XYY, but she was still a little…reticent and insecure…like she was still terrified that he'd leave her. Her hand moved away from her mouth, coming to rest where else, but soundly on his chest, the smooth pads of each digit gently combing through the dark hairs, fingertips penetrating through to his skin like she was trying to memorize the feel of him to remember in the days she'd face alone. But she ignored her own desperate cries, turning her face up to his with a forced, carefree smile. "Is that also why you chose those red, classic Chevy slippers?" She smirked, then faked a yawn and tucked herself soundly against him, clinging onto her old man in the most subtle of ways.

The smile she'd tried to pull off fell short, her lips so taut it was more like a curved gash cut into her face than it was some happy reflex, her eyes betraying her efforts further. She was delighted about this XYY thing, her man was no ordinary man, he was literally one in one thousand, he was exceptional; but that recognition of what she'd married was bringing something deep and dark to the surface now, Tig could see it clouding her awed, dutiful stare. She'd always looked at him like he was so special to her, like he meant everything to her, and he still did, that hadn't changed…but now, in addition to being the savior to her he'd always been, Joss had felt that she wasn't good enough for him, not good enough to reign beside the exceptional thing he was. She was too damaged, deranged and disgraced…and her father had been the root of it all.

Tig felt himself sigh heavily and shake his head, wanting to make this go away for her, trying to think of how to reassure her, but what else did he have to do? He'd fucking said that he lov—no, he knew what he said, no need to repeat that ever again now, inside his head or outside of it…shit, he really had fucking said it…just looked at her in a moment of duress, his mouth fell open and his balls flopped out of it…fuck! Out fucking loud he'd said it…and she'd heard it! That wasn't enough? Jesus Christ, Joss…what else did she need to hear? What else did she need to know? What else did she need from him?

It fucking sucked that he'd let loose the words of every man's downfall, and he sure as two fucking hells wasn't saying it again, but it sucked even more that in spite of having said them, Joss was still so clearly vulnerable to the poisons in her mind and past. God damn it…why didn't he know how to fix this? He wasn't sure what choked him up more, Joss's inner turmoil, or the fact that he had no answer for it, but something made his voice break when he went to speak. "Well," her eyelids fluttered at the octaves of his voice like the flicker of tempo lights on a stereo. Christ, that damn girl loved him so much, she wouldn't last long without him, and she thought she was losing him, in spite of everything he'd said…and he had no weapons to fight that evil with. Shit…he had to think of something, he just needed time…what were they talking about? She'd asked him about something far removed from what had a hold of her…oh yeah…Tig pulled the sheet up towards Joss's chin, revealing the plushy, red Chevy's and the glare of their headlights on the dropped ceiling tiles. "That's all the shithole gift shop had, besides these flip flop things…" and he felt himself sneering a little, but not at Joss…no, the surgical floor and the viewing room came flashing back to him. "But they were green!" He huffed to Joss in a disgust that did bring a more genuine, but still sad smile to her face, because she had no idea what he was talking about, but she'd miss how funny he was after he left her…though he'd never understood how or why he was funny…and despite that he was also never leaving her!

She was quiet, nuzzling her cheek against his chest, petting the dark hairs lightly with the hand that rested upon it. "I'm out of here tomorrow, you know." She said, well, more like she stated, like it was some announcement said over a PA system, the signal for Tig to get his running shoes on go out for that infamous pack of smokes.

As Tig wondered what the hell he could say, he felt Joss's eyelashes tickle against his chest hair rapidly, and the tear he could feel transferring from her face to his skin was no surprise. Shit…okay, yeah, so doctor bitch had said that Joss could still be all hormonal and shit for two or three days, but this was not what this was. Another revelation came to Tig…this was why Joss was so clingy and tearful every time she was away from him; even when she didn't know she was pregnant, she still knew on some level, and knowing had shoved her back into the worst hell she'd ever been in. There was no way for her to believe she was worth being with when she had the constant reminder of how she'd held one too many taboos inside of her. Who could want a girl that would have born both her son and brother? Who could want a girl whose father had fu—

No! No! No! Tig shook the thoughts and the word itself out of his mind. Christ, he never once thought of Joss like that! He never once even pictured her tortures and abuse in his mind, it made him too sick to his stomach to even think about…he may not have come back from Africa as the world's greatest dad, but doing anything…anything…to hurt either of his two girls was far too abominable a thought even for Tig. If he, of all the fucked up people in the world, would never go there, then what the hell kind of piece of shit rat-fucking bastard did that make Joss's father? Fuck! Tig was wishing now that the honorable, old doctor of psychiatry was still alive so he could kill him…slowly…keep the child raper hanging from chains in the basement awhile nipping off fingers and toes with bolt cutters, burning his balls off with a blowtorch, shoving the bastards mouth full of his own shit and then sewing it shut, let him die by choking on it so he'd know how it felt to be poisoned by something that was never supposed to be inside the place it was. Tig's heart rate was soaring again, he wanted to beat the shit out of something, so set to fight again, harder than he had against Ope, but there was no opponent to face. Joss's father was dead…too easily, quickly and painlessly dead…the shithole was gone…but Tig still had to make him go away for Joss…and all of a sudden, he knew how.

"Hey," his voice was rough and battle ready as he shifted her and shook her in his arms, demanding her attention. "Look at me," Tig told her gruffly, and sat up away from her, pushing her back into the bed and taking her under the chin, making her sorrowful, green eyes meet the fire and brimstone in his. "You will not do this!" it came out like he was angry, and he was, but his sweet, dark angel was not the target of his wrath; all Tig could do was hope to hell that Joss understood that somehow, because he had too much rolling inside of him to try to stop it now. "I own you, little girl! You are property; you are mine!" Joss was watching him intently, afraid to so much as blink, her eyes wide but she listened, stayed with him, even nodded in response. "I own everything about you, I own every damn part of you; I own those eyes, I own that hair, I own those tits, I own that pussy," his voice was emphatic, adrenaline pouring into the most useful of places as Tig rose to his true power; he was Joss's god, and she'd accept his commandments. "I own your past, your present and your future too, and the only man I see in any of them is me, God damn it!" The sadness evaporated from Joss's face at the finish of that sentence, a stunned look of…well, Tig wasn't sure just what that look was yet, and he wasn't done with this annunciation either. He wanted her to understand this, he wanted her to do what she was told, like she always did…this was the only way to her freedom…sorry didn't cut it. He tried to get a deep breath, tried to calm down so he wasn't crouching over her, yanking her chin upwards and speaking harshly to her, but it was impossible to do, so much was riding on this. He couldn't have Joss thinking he saw her as…as what her father had seen her as. She couldn't ever think he'd forsake her, "You gettin' me, little girl? I am the first man to ever lay you down, I am the only man to ever lay you down, and I will be the last man to ever lay you down!"

Joss stared up at him, her willingness to receive his word was there, but her faith in what he'd said wavered, faltered against the earthly sins she'd been both witness and victim to. She wanted to believe, begged him for a sign, for some promise that these sins were truly washed away, that she was born again within his light. Tig watched as her lily white hands pressed palm to palm, her head bowing forward against the steeple of her fingers, her eyes closing as she began to mouth the words he'd said to her, hoping to believe them. But Tig knew she would, he'd show her how. He couldn't have been more unafraid of any sacrilege, he was the only deity in this room, and he reached for the water pitcher beside the bed, yanking the top of it off and dunking his fingers into it, shaking off the excess then placing both his wet index and middle fingers to the center of Joss's forehead. "In the name of your old man, your possessor and your husband," he said supremely, moving his fingers downwards towards the bridge of her nose, then up the same way they'd come, moving now in a horizontal pattern to the left and then the right, marking her forehead with the watery sheen of a cleansing "T." "You have always been, and will always be, mine."

Joss's eyes opened slowly and she squinted as if caught in the beams of some radiance, but she was only looking at Tig. Her hands unfolded and she pressed a few fingers to the dampness at her forehead as if checking to see that it was real. She began to smile, it was faint, but it was struggling to life, so very near stepping into the light that Tig had offered her, peace finding its way to the surface within her. Tig smiled, leaning down, kissing her softly and taking both her hands, his voice softer too. "I know what happened to you, baby, and I hate it. I want to fix it, but I can't…this is all I got." He said, heart pounding as he looked at her, encouraged by how her eyes shined with so much brightness. "There's shit that happens to us in life that we can never break away from, because we keep carrying it with us everywhere we go," he told her, slowly drawing her up off of the mattress and closer to him, never breaking the eye contact as his arms slipped around her, holding her tightly, wanting to see it when Joss took this first communion. "But it's time to let it all go, and be my wife."

She was quiet awhile, nodded her head as things moved around inside of her, Tig scrutinizing every movement of her eyes, every labored swallow, every furrow in her brow…but he still never would have been prepared to hear Joss suddenly laughing. Her expression was pure joy, "I love you, Tig" Joss smiled and Tig's arms pulled her tighter to him. "I love you, Tig" her breath was sneaking away from her in the pressure of his embrace, but she continued to repeat those words against his neck over and over again, praising his name, each utterance a hallelujah. She was on her knees now, so was he, both of them looking like they were praying to the other. Tig could have held her like this forever, his sweet, dark, perfect angel who believed in him enough to give him the power he'd needed to save her. Jesus, he loved her…even if he'd never like having to know that he did…but he was glad that he did…everyone needed an angel, even a god.

The creaking of the door hinges was a ruthless intrusion into the rite he celebrated with Joss, making each of them pull away enough to look at who had dared step upon such hallowed ground, but Joss's hands never left where she'd placed them on his chest, and Tig's arms still locked around her…until he saw who it was peeping their head sheepishly around the door, holding a brown paper bag. "Tig," doctor bitch said in a quiet, apologetic voice, trying not to notice anything and trying not to look at Joss in particular. "I'm sorry," she said next, but pushed the door open a little more, almost stepping inside the room, holding the brown paper bag in front of her where Tig was sure so see it…but he'd already seen it…how could he not? It was the first thing his eyes had gone to. "I've got it," doctor bitch said to him, "It's fine, nothing happened to it."


	46. End of the Line

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 46

"I grabbed a few ice pack pads from the maternity floor; they're designed to stay cold for a long time even when surrounded by body heat." Doctor bitch said as Tig took the rolled up paper bag from her. He'd just saved Joss, had scarcely been through with his benediction when doctor bitch had turned the handle and opened the door, letting the sanctity out of the room, waving that bag around where Tig could see it. He wasn't angry, she'd done exactly what he'd told her to do, she'd kept safe what he'd asked her to protect…and now here it was in his hands…and they shook just a little bit. Was he really going to do this?

"Cool," Tig nodded at doctor bitch, wanting to still find some fault with her somehow, but right now, he couldn't even brow beat himself into shame over having relied upon her the way he had been all night. She was getting to be like a carrier pigeon, some dirty little bird that he required the services of and couldn't get by without its obedient ways, but at the same time, he didn't want it shitting everywhere, either. She hadn't given him any static, she hadn't even asked any questions, she'd just thought about what he'd asked her to do and then spit out her plan for getting it done. Shit, this was probably what Joss always saw in her; she was a lousy old lady, but she was a good friend, someone who at least tried to understand…at least, when something made sense to her. Joss…maybe Tig should let her start talking to doctor bitch aga—no, fuck…he couldn't be thinking about that 'BFF' bullshit between the girls right now. He was just trying to distract himself from that bag…that bag that he'd asked for. Joss…Joss probably wouldn't…well…maybe…whatever, Tig had enough to deal with by himself, his crazy was bigger and stronger than Joss's, and he hadn't had time to plan for this moment, even though he'd set its appointment. He had no idea how to even hold this bag, let alone how to hold onto Joss when she realized what was in it, so he'd just kissed his recently converted wife and told her he'd be back, that doctor bitch and he had a "blood test thing" to talk about, and then he'd ushered doctor bitch, and the bag, back into the chapel. Shit…Tig had never spent so much time in church; this was getting excessive, even for a god!

"I figured you'd be staying with Joss tonight," doctor bitch's voice again broke up his thoughts, but that was okay, they needed breaking up; Tig did his best thinking in between thoughts it seemed. "The ice pads should last into the morning, but after that, you'll have to—"

"Yeah, I know," Tig's usual irritation resounded in his tone, it had been abrupt, directed at the situation he had no experience with, but doctor bitch flinched when he spoke. She may have been gaining more coolness in Tig's eyes, but it was still good to see that she didn't know him, didn't really understand him, even if the XYY thing had been changing how she saw him. He looked back at the bag like he wanted to know more about it despite that he couldn't have been more uncomfortable holding it. This had seemed so right up until now. "I'll…do something with it."

He must have sounded just lost enough to earn back doctor bitch's sympathy, and when he glanced quickly in her direction, he could tell she was thinking back to what she'd seen when she'd opened the door to Joss's room; Joss shielded in his arms, Tig so gentle and yet intense with her, holding her like there had never been anything more cherished in his life. Damn it, was he doing that? Yeah…yeah, he was…and now doctor bitch was smiling just a little at him, like she was thinking to herself that he "wasn't such a bad guy after all." Fuck…yes he was!

"It's a boy," all at once it was like the skin peeled back along Tig's spine, doctor bitch's words splitting the molecules of air around him. The bag in his hand suddenly didn't feel heavy enough, maybe it was empty? No, the ice pads were in there, Tig could feel their heavy chill…that seemed to have climbed up his arm and encompassed all of him. He'd never expected…he was only trying to do right by this kid, not let it end up as medical waste in Saint Thomas's incinerator…but now…it was a…he had a—doctor bitch's tone and expression softened to something somber. "I've never seen an ectopic go past the first trimester, surgical intervention usually occurs anywhere between week six to week nine, but..."

"But what?" Why the hell did she keep doing that? Stupid dirty bird pigeon! If she was going to talk, then talk…don't keep stopping in the fucking middle! Oh shit…oh fuck…did this mean there was bad news on the way out of doctor dirty bird bitch's mouth? Was Joss okay? Christ, all night long he'd been going up and down this hill! Doctor dirty bird bitch? That was just too fucking long to keep saying…

"Tig," doctor bitch sort of sighed, and she glanced at the bag he was holding and then back at him with some kind of…suspicious look. "I know what you said about Joss keeping this a secret, but she kept it a secret for a long time…at least fifteen or sixteen weeks, that's why I can tell that it would have been a boy."

"It is a boy!" Tig insisted with some annoyed enthusiasm that he didn't understand himself, a lot of things turning over in him and rising into roles he'd forgotten how to play. But there was something stronger still that bullied any decency out of the way. The initial shock of this announcement was being replaced by Tig's own suspicions…doctor bitch wasn't trying to tell some other little story on Joss again was she? Trying to break up what Tig and Joss had by insinuating that Joss could have been keeping a lot of secrets from him if she'd kept that one for so long? But why would doctor bitch be doing that? It didn't fit with everything else she'd done and said tonight…it wasn't like him, not even a little, particularly where doctor bitch was concerned, but Tig was going to give her the benefit of the doubt…for about thirty more seconds. "And?"

"Well," doctor bitch was hesitant, trying to choose her words carefully. "I know you're good for Joss, I know you love her, you'll do everything you can to take care of her," Tig was nodding as his patience ran out; doctor bitch had paused yet again. He was about to remind her to finish making her damn point, but she remembered on her own. "But just be on the alert for any signs of Postpartum Depression in Joss, it's possible she could experience it, she carried the fetu—I mean, your boy, for about four months, that's a long time."

Shit…Tig sighed himself now…yeah, that was a long time…he hadn't even thought about this Postpartum shit…Post Traumatic Stress he had a real good handle on both identifying and helping Joss cope with, but he didn't know nothin' about this birthin' babies shit…what? Fuck, why'd he start sounding like the Aunt Jemima woman in "Gone With the Wind?" But, hey…dirty bird had changed the station, said "boy" instead of "fetus"…Tig felt himself kind of making a face, what a disgusting word, "fetus"…that was another word he didn't say. He looked back at doctor bitch, wondering now just what the hell he was going to do about her being cool, because she was now; there was no denying it, right down to her reasons for bringing up how long his boy had been a secret…his boy. "Okay," he nodded, doubtful that Joss would suffer much in the way that a normal woman would. Tig had already handled what it had done to fuck her up, but still, he didn't want anymore surprises. "What do I look for?"

"She'll be blaming herself for what happened, for why your boy didn't live, she won't want to do the things she usually loves to do, she could stop eating, stop sleeping, become lethargic, even suicidal." Doctor bitch smiled just a touch, that weird "I'm so proud of you, Tig" look on her face. "She's got you, I know she does, but don't hesitate to call me if you think you need me, okay?"

Tig nodded, it was creepy, doctor bitch being all cool and shit…would he ever get used to this? Would he ever get used to having a boy? His boy…the ice pads outweighed him, sixteen weeks and his boy still felt like nothing in his hand. "Yeah, I will." Tig promised doctor bitch, but again he knew Joss wouldn't be victim to any grief such as that…his sweet, beautiful, dark angel was too broken inside to feel what doctor bitch was worried she might feel. Worried…doctor bitch was worried about Joss…God damn it…what did Tig do with that in and of itself?

Doctor bitch gave the altar another one of those fretful glances and sighed again. "Okay, good. Let me know if you need anything else, I'm off shift, but you have my cell." Her eyes took another disappointed trip around the altar and then she kind of put on a smile and gathered herself to go. Damn it…what was with her and the altar? Damn it to hell, why did it matter to Tig? Fuck, there were other things his attention should be on…like the one in that brown paper bag.

"Hey," he said quickly, just as her hand wrapped around the door handle. Doctor bitch froze, looking back at him, at the ready. "My boy," it had seemed so easy a question in his mind, but now the words felt chopped in half. "He like me? The XYY thing?"

There was that "I'm so proud of you, Tig" smile again on doctor bitch's face, it was a little sadder this time, but still, it was like she knew he was making an effort to know his boy, to have something with the child at the end of his fingers, even if nothing would come of it. "I don't see why he couldn't be," doctor bitch answered. "He's bigger than most at that stage, probably would have had Joss crying her eyes out over how fat he was making her, had he been growing in the right place." Tig felt himself nodding again, also felt some kind of…warmth spreading within him…a warmth he didn't want to feel, because there was only coldness on the other side of it. "And he sure hung on for a long time too; I think maybe he wanted to make it to the end, until he figured out it would mean killing his mother and devastating his fath—"

"Alright," Tig interjected, much louder than he needed to or meant to, but he just couldn't hear anymore, particularly not the word doctor bitch was about to say. He stiffened, could feel something chasing him that he could only outrun until Joss and he were back home again, trying to go back to the day to day stuff…but they wouldn't be able to, not until his boy was laid to rest. His boy…Tig's "could have been." The club was Tig's one day, maybe an heir would have been nice…Tig was lucky, he'd managed to come into favor over the legitimate prince…Jax was the first prince of SAMCRO, Tig was the second…and there, weightless in the brown paper bag, lay SAMCRO's third prince. A sad respect drenched him suddenly, but it wasn't entirely some gut wrenching, personal form of mourning, but more like what every veteran felt inside when they heard Taps being played. Shit…he needed sometime to himself now…just a few minutes…just a few minutes to sit in here…and hold his son.


	47. Knots

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 47

One more time Sam took three or four steps backwards in the crossties, tossing his head up above Joss's, being defiant and also flaunting his own brand of equine-brat humor. Joss sighed in exasperation, stepping down off the mounting block she'd been standing on in front of her wackadoo horse one more time, reaching out and leading him forward again by his purple halter. "Come on," she told him like a mother keeping after her insolent child, "Yes, I know, you're taller than I am, but we still have all those cockleburs to get out of your forelock. Had you not stuck them in there, I wouldn't have to comb them out now." This was getting tedious, her hands hurt from gripping and yanking on the aluminum pulling comb for so long now, and the concrete floor of Lauren's barn was littered with masses of Sam's black mane, all matted together by clusters of burs that had been tangled deeply. It looked like she'd decided to give Sam a hair weave, and then tore it all out. She'd definitely have to sweep up before she left; and she shouldn't have been doing that…or this…Tig had gone back to work this morning, but if he knew she was here, just two days home from the hospital…yeah, he'd be pissed. But, it wasn't like he'd said "don't go up to that horse," and Joss had been smart enough not to ask if she could…so technically, she wasn't exactly where she shouldn't have been. She was only doing things she shouldn't have been. But, it wasn't by her design, she was just going to come up to see Sam, she'd brought him an apple…he was such a finicky, high maintenance diva, turned his one hundred percent thoroughbred nose up at all the fun horse treats like the Cotton Candy Willie's Muffins and the Paddock Cakes Horsey S'mores that even had a real marshmallow stuffed between their two chocolaty, sweet feed halves. Almost fifty dollars in gourmet horse treats Joss had gone out and spent, and what did the big, dark dapple gray dumbass want? Apples and carrots…maybe the occasional handful of banana chips…that was all. But she gave it to him of course; she loved her big, dumb, deviant diva!

But, her plans for stopping by to visit over the fence with Sam for just a few minutes had turned into a project as soon as she'd seen the big jerk. It had been too long since Joss had been up here to work with him; life had gotten far too much in the way, which is why she grabbed the first opportunity to see her horse that had come along. That was one drawback to being the only equestrian in her household or immediate….club-hold? Tig knew she loved to work with her horse, but he didn't really understand that it was like a job, it had to be done to keep Sam from being a full time psycho, and Gemma? Yeah, right…Gemma was only focused on one thing, and that was the wedding and there were no horses in the wedding. And now there was no wedding…that was yet to be handled, but Joss let it slip away from her mind again, there was enough to saturate her conscience in downbeat ways right now, starting with how she'd neglected her horse. Lauren had stepped in to feed him, brought him in from the field when the farrier had come to trim his hooves and put new shoes on him and she made sure Sam was healthy, all without Joss even having to ask her to of course, but there were some things that only Joss could really do with Sam. He was her horse, and trying to build a bond with the big, troubled dapple gray hadn't been easy; it would likely be weeks of re-training now before Joss would be able to climb back up on him again.

Sam had come cantering up the hill in his field to her when she'd called him, seemingly happy to see her for once too, but as he got closer, Joss just sighed; his forelock was so full of cockleburs that it stood outwards from between his ears like he was a unicorn, and the rest of his mane wasn't much better. He seemed so proud of his adornment, had galloped up to her with his head held high like, "look at me! Look! Yes, I did this myself!" He was a mess, but Joss had laughed…all the time knowing that she couldn't leave him like that, skin infections were a possibility with how tightly tangled that that mane was…that mane she'd been trying so hard to get to grow out…and what a mistake that seemed like now. What the heck had he been doing while she was gone, flushing pheasants for hunters? Like it mattered what he was doing, it had to be undone either way, and Sam wasn't enjoying that near as much he had collecting his trinkets. He tried everything to distract her, backing up away from her and the comb, kicking at the barn cats if they wandered near his feet, even made an attempt to convince Joss that Lauren's six Plymouth Barred Rock hens who wandered freely into the barn were some new variety of horse eating chickens. But Joss had been through these silly antics with him before, and kept combing, reminding Sam that horses had no nerve endings in their mane, or their tail, so he didn't feel anything as she yanked bur after bur free with the comb.

She would have said that Sam knew what was on her mind when she'd gone in with a lead shank and halter to get him, because that had turned into a game of chase that had lasted for more than twenty minutes, all over his field, up the hill and down the hill, into the run-in shed, out of the run-in shed and around the run-in shed until she was finally able to loop the lead shank around his neck as he stopped for a drink at the automatic waterer and slip the halter onto his head before he stuck his nose higher than she could reach…but then, Sam liked to run away from her, he did it a lot, some things never changed…some things.

Joss moved the metal slide on one of the crossties further away from Sam's halter, shortening the strap that held him to one of the support beams of the barn so he wasn't able to back up so easily anymore, then climbed back up on the mounting block, finger numbing aluminum mane pulling comb still in hand. Sam required a lot of attention, and when Joss wasn't here to give it to him he found it himself, this time in the form of a cocklebur bush. But he had to be constantly watched not just because of his ego, but because at any moment he could do…well, anything…like now, standing here in these shortened crossties, there was always the chance that he'd give it his all pulling at them, and when that didn't free him, try to bolt forward, knocking her off of the mounting block and then flipping ass over ears and break his neck, likely crushing Joss in the horrible process. He was highly strung, that was for sure, but luckily, Joss had a man like that too, and she was used to having to watch everything at every moment.

Tig, it was as good a thing for him to not know that she was here as it was for Joss to be here. She needed to get back to her old routine, before she'd been bride-napped…before she'd gotten…well, just, before. Marriage hadn't changed her and Tig much, he had already owned her, there weren't too many other things that were going to top that, it was just the sentiment around the words "wife" and "husband" that made her smile a little more brightly when she thought of her man. And besides, everything at home had been about how she was feeling, was she eating enough, was she sleeping okay. She felt okay, only a little sore, she was eating fine and sleeping a lot, but still Tig seemed worried about her, hadn't wanted to leave her alone today and go to the garage, but Joss had choked down a piece of bacon to make him happy and that one carnivorous act had finally convinced him that she'd be fine on her own, for a few hours at least. He loved her, that's why he worried so much, he'd even said out loud to her he loved her, and Joss had felt those words every day, heard their echo whenever Tig touched her, would still close her eyes and shake with the way they'd moved the earth beneath her feet…but something was missing. There was a void between her and Tig that she seemed to be the only one noticing, but it was still there, this lonesome element of disconnect that wouldn't let her feel the dream like bliss of exultance she wanted to feel as the new, young wife who was completely devoted to the man that loved her more than he could stand. And that element, that disconnect, was about five inches long, wrapped in gauze, sealed within a pathology sample container, and currently preserved in their freezer.

She wanted to forget about it, that's all it could ever be to her, something to forget, something that marked the darkest, most humiliating and insensitive of all the betrayals ever perpetrated against her. It was gone from her body, but it wasn't gone from her…that child was Tig's…how could she want to forget that? But she did, she hated herself for it, but she didn't know how to stop herself from what she felt; she wasn't treated as some paramount, adored little being that was the first and last thing her parent had strived to keep protected. She wasn't loved, she wasn't dear; she wasn't the gift from God that children were supposed to be. She was little better than a dog kept in a cage, poked, prodded and beaten until it had learned to be mean, mean enough to fight in a ring and tear heads off with teeth and claws. Raising a child, wanting a child, had to come partly from how she was treated as a child herself…and that was all she had to draw from…the years and traumas that had created her beast. Tig's child…she wanted to forget it, it should never have been; the only thing, besides Tig, that had ever gone right in her life was being injured to the point of sterility…and yet these unwelcomed children still came to her…small bundles of torment.

Sam snorted and shook his head a little, Joss quickly seeing why and stopped attacking the cocklebur unicorn horn between his ears. "I'm sorry, baby," she said softly to him and then cupped her hand, slowly bringing it up to his eye where the fallen debris mix of mane and bits of cocklebur were caught in his black eyelashes, tickling against the cinnamon color of his large iris. "It's okay," she told him calmly, expecting that he'd toss his head and protest her hand on his face like this, which he did as usual, but Joss only smiled, letting Sam be who actually removed the irksome fragments with the use of the hand that Joss had lent him. "You're a good boy," she cooed to him and gave him a pat on his neck, but then felt the ever present void trying to suck her in again. She sighed, and chanced Sam breaking her nose or knocking out one of her front teeth by laying her forehead against the length of his pale, white blaze. "You're my only boy."

Boy…that's how Tig had referred to the gauze wrapped thing he'd placed in the freezer; called it his "boy." Joss hadn't been there when he'd put it in there, she didn't even know it had come home with them or that it was being stored in the freezer or why…but she'd figured it out thanks to Tig never allowing her to be alone in the kitchen. Just why it was that he always followed her in there, or came running into the kitchen whenever heard her go in there Joss wasn't sure…maybe he didn't want her to find it? But she'd seen it nonetheless, the first night they were home, she'd taken a shower, expecting to find Tig waiting for her in bed when she got out, but he wasn't there. He was in the kitchen, she could hear him opening the freezer up, she'd thought that perhaps he wanted something to eat, and she'd gone back downstairs, ready to offer her wifely assistance, but when she turned the corner into the kitchen, and there was Tig, holding that sample jar with that little mummy in it, looking at it like…like it meant something, like it was something.

But it wasn't…it wasn't…Joss didn't understand how it could be…to her it was just…nothing. The shock of his…attachment to it, that it held some significance to him that Joss was numb to, had backed her out of the kitchen doorway, making her turn her head away like she'd seen something she was never supposed to have seen. Tig had apparently not noticed she'd been standing there, but she could hear him carefully excavating a place in the freezer to set the sample jar snugly into then shut the door, walking out of the kitchen with a pallbearer's respectfully silent decorum, taking her hand and leading her back up the stairs, no questions asked, or answered. But maybe he had known she was there, maybe he knew that Joss was aware of what made their freezer into some prenatal morgue. Maybe he always chaperoned her in the kitchen because he thought she'd do…something to what he'd put in the freezer? Joss couldn't deny that she wanted it gone, that she didn't want it anywhere near her, but had that truly been Tig's assumption, he'd have just plain told her, "don't touch anything in that damn freezer!" But Tig hadn't said anything…nothing…he was good at giving orders and yelling, that was definitely his preferred method of verbal communication, and if that thing in the freezer meant so damn much to him, why wasn't he warning her to stay the fuck away from it? Hmm…maybe that wasn't it…maybe he just…maybe he just didn't think it was right for her to have to be alone with it?

A big clump of cockleburs finally worked free of Sam's trashed forelock, crumbling as the comb took one last swipe through it, the bits and pieces of each little seed pod rolling down Sam's pale, white blaze, over his dark muzzle and unfortunately into one of his nostrils. "Oh," Joss squealed apologetically, but before she could brush them away, the big, lean gray jerked his head as high as he could in the shortened cross ties, which wasn't very high, and sneezed, not once, not twice, but three times…each time practically against Joss's chest. The oversized heather gray, long sleeved T-shirt with the outline of a showjumper on it fluttered violently with each blast, Sam's hot breath felt through the fabric and even on her neck, but in its wake was warm, wet saliva and nasal secretions from her chin to her knees. After the last sneeze, Sam gave himself a good shake and took a deep, sighing equine breath that seemed to represent the words, "I told you so!" Joss sighed herself, rolling her eyes at him then taking herself in, wearing his sneezes all over her shirt and the black leggings she had on, but he had managed to spare her tall, black, leather field boots, so that was at least good.

"Bless you," she finally said to him coolly, but even covered in a spray of horse spit and snot, Joss couldn't help laughing just a little bit, reaching into her grooming tote and pulling out another wedge of apple for Sam. "I really have missed you, you know." But he wasn't listening to her, just stood there chewing his apple quickly and sloppily, his attention taken by noises outside the barn, his ears pricked forward at the sound of an engine that Joss was just now able to make out. She recognized the sounds as some kind of big vehicle; whoever was pulling in was driving an SUV of some sort. Good, Lauren must have been home now, it would be nice to see her, maybe…everyone wanted to offer condolences, but Joss wasn't accepting them. But still, she did need a friend right now, even if she would have to ask them not to mention anything about her…surgery. That part of the conversation would suck, Joss didn't look forward to having it, but Lauren was on her way, her footsteps crunching through the gravel towards the barn. Joss kept her back turned to her, focusing on Sam, reaching for his forelock again with the comb, but Sam wouldn't be still, was weaving to the left and right, acting anxious. "Hey, stand!" She ordered him in that sharp, grunting voice that was so often needed to get his attention and make him behave. "You know Lauren, it's okay."

The footsteps stopped then, Lauren was standing in the doorway of the barn now, strangely quiet though, and Sam was still bobbing and shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. "He may know Lauren, but it's the first time he's seen me," someone said authoritatively, the voice drenched thickly with the majesty and confidence of a queen…shit…Joss spun around, her blood turning to ice, and there, standing just inside the barn, was Gemma.


	48. Rock and Hard Place

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 48

"How's our girl doing?" Bobby and Tig are taking a smoke break outside in between the second and third bay doors, I'm busy in the third bay, opening a new muffler for the Malibu that's on the lift, but as soon as I hear Bobby ask, I stop and start listening in. This is the only way I can get any information on how Joss's recovery is going; I can't just ask Tig, not anymore…I can't ask anyone really, not after my journey into the dark-side at the hospital a few nights ago. I probably shouldn't be concerned about her at all, that's what he wants, but I can't just turn this off, he of all people should understand that…he mooned over Gemma for what I figure to be a good four or five years…and then he'd obviously come across Joss, even if he wasn't bringing her around. Yeah, he expects me to put a bullet in Joss's head after he kicks it, thinks that carrying my eventual duty around will put an end to all this useless attachment I have to Joss, but still, I can't just make it stop on a dime like that, no matter what Tig expects of me. Besides, it's not like I ever gave him my word that I'd do it…that I'd put her down.

Tig puts on his usual physical display of hating how he's stuck with Joss that just drives me crazy. He's got her, she wants to be with him, she's this beautiful, incredible, intelligent girl, and yet he acts like she's some curse that befell him. I want to punch the shit out of him every time he does this, but I don't…I can't…I just stand here, clandestinely watching as he shakes his head, rubs at the back of his neck like he really needs a break from her, then sighs like she's such a pain in his ass. "She threw me outta the house this morning, didn't want me around," he says to Bobby, and for a second the naïve part of me that still wants Joss so much flips on my hopeful switch, but ultimately, I know better…this time.

Bobby laughs, "Well, that's married life for ya." I find myself a bit amused too, but Bobby's always got something like that to say about marriage. He and Precious, I can't help but wonder how they managed to stay together for the few years that they were together. He wouldn't be able to make comments like that about Joss and I if I had her, because I wouldn't give him reasons to. I'd never complain about her, I'd never even give off the vibe that I didn't like having what I had with her…anything I could have with her would be prized, and I'd be flaunting it everywhere. I didn't do that enough with Donna, and in a roundabout way, it cost me…if she'd been around the club more, if she'd been a figure head old lady, then maybe Tig would have known first thing that it was her in the truck and not me. Donna…I know Joss isn't anything like her, I know it wouldn't work between me and Joss the way it did between me and Donna, but…but what? I'm doing it again, damn it…thinking about a future that's never going to come. Shit, I really do need to find a way to stop doing this, Tig's been saying it for almost a year now and my inability to stop now has the entire club saying it, and Tig coming up with more and more drastic ways to get me to stop. But Jesus, what does he think this is? India? He wants his old lady to jump onto his funeral pyre? No, he doesn't…he wants her thrown there.

Tig exhales smoke heavily in lieu of a laugh, acting all badass, leaning back against the blue cinderblocks, squinting into the sun which only makes it look even more like he's sneering. I'm too used to seeing this cocky, bothered posture whenever he talks about Joss; God damn it, if she means as much to him as he claims she does, then he should be okay with showing it, and if she doesn't mean enough to him, then he should let her go! "She's getting her shit together," he says to Bobby, reporting some real news for a change, but in a much less flattering way to his wife than he could have chosen to. "More worried about scars from the damn surgery than anything else, won't listen to me about how the holes they poked in her aren't big enough to matter." He paused, giving me some relief from the callousness that makes it so hard to stand here quietly. "She's making my head pound with that shit; I'm lucky she didn't really have that kid, cuz all she'd be doing is whining about stretch marks and shit, and I'd have to duct tape her damn mouth shut."

Yeah, like out of the two of them, Joss is the one who needs her damn mouth duct taped shut! I've never heard her talk about Tig the way he talks about her…of course, I haven't gotten many opportunities to talk to her at all, but still…she's got a real sick and unfortunate dedication to Trager that I wish I knew how to break. But I can't make that girl stop loving that asshole, and I can't make that asshole give up that girl…but I just want to…be something to her, I can't help it. Yeah, right…be what? What in hell could I ever do for Joss with Tig keeping her wrapped up in his "sick, twisted coils" or however he described it to me that night in the hospital chapel? This is hopeless…and I'm feeling that way too, now.

Okay, that's it…I have to get away from this…I know Joss is doing fine, that's all I was really concerned about, I have to hold onto that and let everything else slip away from my turbulent thoughts. Bobby, who has always spoke better "Tig" than I ever will, is laughing though like he's interpreted something different in Tig's annoyed grievances, saying something, but I'm picking up my half opened muffler box and moving further into the bay with it, I can't listen in to that conversation anymore, it's doing things to me that I can't undo…I'm not going to crash again like I did the night of Joss's surgery…that night…I still can't believe Tig wants me to kill Joss…and it isn't helping me to get over her, it's just tearing me to fucking shreds inside. I don't want to be eternally caught in what I'm so wrapped up in now, I either want Joss, or if I can't have her, then I have to get out of this. It sounds so simple, but when I start trying to do it, it's not. But I have to do it…I hate it, but for some reason, this does feel like it could be my only way out…Tig wants me to send Joss to him…to press a steel muzzle to the back of her skull…an eye for an eye…freedom…it's not like she loves me, it's not like she ever could, she's too full up of Tig…I'm going to…no…hell, I don't know, I'm just going to keep my head down and get through this, however it ends…with any luck, I'll die first.

"Hey Ope," Again I look up from the box I've been trying to open for the last five minutes and there's Jax, coming towards me in street clothes, he's not working again today…per usual lately. He has his serious look on his face; I wonder what happened to him this time, what terrible, unimaginable thing that he just can't see he deserved to be dealing with. Shit…he's my best friend, or the closest thing to one that I have still anyway…why am I always thinking about him with so much animosity?

I straighten up and give him a nod as he walks up to me, not anxious to really speak to him…the last thing he said to me a few nights ago was that I was "turning into Tig."

Jax returns my nod, clutching me around the bicep. "Go to lunch?"

It's only about eleven o'clock, but what the hell, I could use a break. "Why not?" I agree, and before I even know it, I'm sitting across the warped picnic table from Jax. He looks kind of pensive, which is rare for him, he's usually argumentative when something isn't going his way at church, but he's never nervous about having it pass, no matter who will end up under the bus afterwards. "How's things?" I ask, I do still care, I think this bug up my ass where Jax is concerned is just me lashing out due to my Joss fixation…at least I hope…I don't know how this is going to go down with Jax and the club, but I've been on my own here without him lately.

Jax starts nodding like he's trying to reassure himself, his lips pull tightly across his teeth and he rubs his chin. "I'm getting things together, things are looking better." He tells me, but he doesn't look like he believes all of it. I'm getting the feeling that maybe he wanted to talk because he needs me to be the best friend and give him the ego boost that I usually do…but I just don't feel like that's in me…Tig wants me to kill Joss…I've got too much of my own shit to deal with, and I haven't had anyone to take it to.

We're not eating, this isn't lunch; it was never intended to be. "Sounds good," I say, and start to realize that my responses aren't containing too many words…it's like I can't talk to Jax anymore…or maybe I've just gotten used to not being able to.

"Tara said Joss went home a couple days ago," He says next, like offering me an hors d'oeuvre, "She's going to be fine, you know that, right?"

He's a little late with that news, and why's he even relating it to me? He was right there leading the charge a few nights ago telling me I had to let go of Joss, and now he's coming around to tell me she's going to be fine? "Is she?" I ask as if I don't know that…but I don't…Tig wants me to put a .45 in her brain…no, more like a twenty-two right behind the ear, he probably doesn't want her real messed up when I lay her in that hole with him. Fuck…I'm already planning it, I'm already seeing it in my mind, I can already feel my arms moving with the shovel, I can already see Tig in the grave, and I can already feel that twenty-two in my hand, pressed right to the slight swell of bone even with Joss's earlobe…she probably won't cry, or scream or any of that, she'll be too damn happy about being with Tig again…she won't last long without him. No, no one knows that for sure…and least, I don't…and I don't want this much fucking clarity of it all, I feel like I've already done it…I can't do it…I can't…no, I can…but I don't want to.

"Look, I'm just going to come right out and say it, Ope." Jax's voice disrupts the execution I was performing in my head, and I come back to reality to see him looking around to make sure no one was coming. Shit, this is probably going to be another "you're swimming in the deep end with this Joss stuff" warning from him, but he has no idea…none! "You and me been buds for a long time," he says almost under his breath. "You've always had my back, Ope, and don't think I haven't noticed or don't appreciate it. You and me, we're different from everyone else here, we gotta stick together."

"Yeah," I say, but I don't sound very welcoming of Jax's acknowledgements because I'm too stuck on how he says he and I are "different" from the rest of the club. How are we different? I mean, I always knew Jax saw himself as "different," but I never did, not really. Hell, my dad is a founding member, the same as was his dad; we were both born into this club. I want what's best for this club; I'm willing to put aside my disagreements…and even my worst heartbreaks…for the sake of this club. I was born into this club, without it, I'm nothing. How is that "different" from anyone else with a reaper cut on their backs? I'm not "different"…I wouldn't always handle things the way guys like Clay and Tig and Bobby would, but I'll carry them out to keep this club going…I'm not "different." I'm only "different" because I've always stood by Jax, no matter what…and he's "different." But SAMCRO isn't the place for "different," it never was, being "different" is being unwilling to understand and sacrifice for brotherhood…and that's Jax, love him or hate him. It sucks to admit it, but Tig's a better brother than Jax in that way, I hate what Tig's asking of me, but he's asking it in the interest of this club, in the interest of brotherhood…but I can't do it…I don't think…I don't want to find out…and then, Jax opens his mouth again…

"I'm taking off, man." He says to me, his eyes staring forcefully at mine, the air heavy around his words. "Starting my own thing, Nevada, Texas maybe, I don't know just yet." He pauses, and just when it starts to really hit me, that he's leaving, that he won't be here for me to talk to about anything…because he's running…he looks at me like he's got it all figured out. "What I do know is that I want you with me, bro. And you gotta get out of here. Whattya say?"

I feel my head drop forward with my shock, what the hell is Jax proposing? It's obvious, but he can't be serious…can he? He knows what SAMCRO means to me, it's what I've been living for ever since we were kids watching our dad's run Charming from the backs of stripped down, blacked out, outlaw FXR's. He and I are second generation reaper men…doesn't that mean anything anymore? But he's right, God damn it…I have to get out of here; if I don't, one day I'll be putting a gun to Joss's head. I want to speak, but I'm not even sure what's going to come out of my mouth…I can't leave, but I can't stay either…and then, from out of nowhere, as if on some sick cue, Tig is walking over the table, his eyes on me.


	49. For the People

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 49

"So, looks like Tig never did get you a ring," Gemma's voice was tight with what she was trying to hold back, but still, a lot of her vehemence was slipping through, finding the most permeable of the ramparts Joss had instantly begun constructing the moment she'd seen Gemma standing there in the doorway of the barn. Why Gemma was even trying to hold back was a mystery, she was the matriarch, there was nothing to stop her from huffing and puffing and blowing this whole barn down if she wanted to. The queen was now sitting upon the blue paint chipped platform of the goat grooming stand that was against the outer wall of the tack room inside the barn. There was mud caked on one corner of the platform and bits of goat hair, hay and straw dangled from torn cobwebs here and there along the legs, but Gemma always had presence enough to make anything around her seem lavish and fine. She looked almost like some rather elegant and regal a lady reclining on a damask chaise considering she was sitting upon a thing that just a few weeks ago Joss had helped Lauren drag each one of the long, floppy eared Nubian goats onto, situated their head into the headpiece and wrapped the chain securely around the backs of their necks and distracted them with feed while Lauren clipped their little cloven hooves. Cloven hooves…Gemma had called Tig a "demon"…Joss would always remember that, and Gemma was making it very easy to not forget that right now, noticing the unembellished nature of Joss's fingers as she gripped the body brush she was stroking Sam's back with, and SAMCRO's first lady dug right in at Tig, even though he wasn't present.

Joss's eyes narrowed, but she did what she could to soften her angry defense before she turned away from Sam to face Gemma; Gemma was holding back…when in Rome… "Maybe he did get me a ring, but I took it off to work with my horse." She offered tersely, Gemma's lack of knowledge about anything in barns, or around horses, suddenly so irritating in itself. It was ridiculous, but Joss could somehow tell how annoyed Sam was with Gemma's presence as well. "How did you even get here?" Joss asked, still trying to keep things bottled up, but her tone spoke clearly of the turf Gemma had invaded.

"Juice," Gemma said with a haughty sigh, like Joss should know by now that the queen didn't have to explain herself. "I overheard Tig saying you made him go to the garage today, I figured that was because you were anxious to get back to him," Gemma indicated Sam, who was for once standing quietly, but Joss turned to face Gemma, throwing herself between Gemma's pointing finger and her horse, out to protect all that was hers from whatever Gemma planned on letting loose. "I cornered Juice, demanded to know where the farm was; he may be the idiot in our little village, but he does know when making with details will save his hide."

"Great," Joss rolled her eyes, visions of Juice recounting his Gemma-Attack in front of Tig spinning out of control in her mind…damn…Joss should have known better than to try and get away with this…and Gemma shouldn't have ever gone after poor Juice…poor Juice…he wasn't outfitted enough to take on any affront by Gemma…Joss liked Juice, he was sweet, always had good things to say about everyone, but Joss and Juice weren't as close as what Joss was suddenly feeling they were now…Gemma had cornered Juice…Joss's Juice! The boyfriend of Joss's friend, the originator of the portmanteau "Tijo"…poor Juice…her Juice! And if Tig did find out that Joss had come up here to see Sam that was also because of Gemma! Joss felt her head shaking with her aggravation as she looked at Gemma…Joss was sending out the "fight" signals with no way to stop it now, it didn't matter that her body wasn't fully healed, or that she was messing with the queen. "Look," she said and this time she couldn't contain the anger in her tone. "If you're after me, then come after me! Don't involve any of my people in it!"

Gemma sat up straight and was on her feet in a snappish way. "Your people?" She asked with squinted eyes and a pondering look. "And what 'people' do you have that I didn't have first?"

Shit…that was a mistake…future queen was still nothing against reigning queen. Joss sighed, knew what the next words out of her mouth should be, but she didn't want to say them…she didn't want to lose…but still, she didn't want to fight with Gemma…but there was no way not to. She turned back to Sam, folding her arms over one another and resting them up high against his dappled shoulder, sighing as her horse also exhaled heavily in some kind of sympathy of her plight. The big gray was still, letting her lean there against him, comforting her with his scent…Sam smelled like a horse of course, but some of the best times in Joss's life had smelled like a warm barn full of hay and straw and fresh leather and sweet feed. She turned her face to the side, pressing her cheek into the thickening length of Sam's autumn coat. He'd never let her do this before, she used to work with him every day only to have him do something stupid and dangerous like rear up on his back legs when she climbed up on the mounting block and slid her left foot into the stirrup to get on him. But now…he was quiet, submissive even, no sign of the brat he usually was. He was giving in, could sense that the circumstances called for it…her IQ was higher than ninety-eight percent of the population, but Joss's own horse was smarter than she was. She turned back to Gemma, still determined to hold the high ground, but there was no battle cry in her tone, just haughtiness. "I'm not going to apologize for getting married." She stated and once again resumed brushing Sam's back, carrying on now as if it were only she and Sam in the barn, feeling some odd sense of peace and protection. But it was likely only denial of the situation, like if she ignored it, it might just go away…that and guilt…

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head, still looking so in control of things despite Joss's obstinacy. "And I didn't drive all the way out here because hearing you say it means that damn much to me!" She shook her head, all the finely highlighted tendrils of her hair shining in the sunlight that bathed the interior of the barn. She looked like there was a crown on her head, and there was, Joss couldn't deny or fight against that, Gemma was queen, and it was hard to imagine her as anything less, even though Joss herself was next in line…and the queen was not happy with her, for good reason.

Joss began to feel thankful that she hadn't apologized now, it seemed like perhaps that would have made Gemma angrier instead of been what she wanted to hear, at least she'd avoided that, but now panic and hurt was seeping into the whirlwind of strategies that Joss entertained…Gemma wasn't interested in an apology, said it "didn't mean that damn much" to her…acted like any remorse that was offered would have been discarded like it was garbage. Joss had never had a mother in her life, not until Gemma…and now she feared she was losing her; that perhaps she, like the apology she'd refused to spit out, meant nothing to the only woman who had ever cared enough to try to take care of her. Oh God…what if she'd been abandoned? Cast out? A Maverick? She'd always have Tig, he'd always be more than enough…but…Gemma…how was Joss ever supposed to learn how to be the queen? Joss…she'd destined herself for failure, and over what? A poofy dress, a six tier cake and a gazebo surrounded with roses? Suddenly all these things had felt less like obstacles and more like rites of passage…oh no! She stopped brushing Sam and leaned on him for a few more seconds, inhaling that earthy scent that had surrounded so many of the only happy times she'd had as a child, but it wasn't working to calm her down now, it couldn't penetrate through this orphaned feeling. Gemma had lost one son, the surviving one was a rotten little brat; the queen could have thrown her hands up and decided never to reach out to another kid ever again, but that's not what she'd done. She'd taken Joss under the protection of her wing, glorified her in the radiance of her queenly majesty…only to have Joss skip out on her…kind of like her dear dear "brother" did. Joss felt her heart unhinge from its appointed place and drop into her stomach with what she swore was a heavy 'clink.' She was awful…first Jax, now her…she was awful. She should say something…but what? What was left?

"I know why you did it." It wasn't the words that surprised her as much as it was how Gemma said them. She didn't sound angry, she sounded more like she'd found some broken off piece of Joss that she was concerned about her having lost. Gemma's heels clicked slowly over the concrete floor as she stepped closer to both Sam and Joss. Joss turned a bit to look at her, but kept her face against Sam's dappled coat as if it was her only support. She watched Gemma's hand rising up, expecting and even a little worried that it might come down on her shoulder with some unbearable pressure of affection that Joss had no right to receive, but instead, she watched as Gemma's palm and fingers pressed softly but solidly to the muscle of Sam's long neck. Gemma gave him a pat as she looked at Joss, who was on the edge of warning Gemma that Sam didn't like to be touched by people he didn't know, that he even tossed his head and snorted at Lauren, and he lived on her farm, but Sam stood quietly, still setting an example for Joss to emulate. Gemma's hand remained stroking Sam's lean neck, but her eyes were on Joss. "I know you think I see you as my last hope at having some perfect kid," she said, but there was no admission or apology in her voice, "go ahead, be all angsty about that one, I'd expect you to be." She sounded a little annoyed then, like the parent of a teenager…which Joss was, but the distaste wasn't long lived. "And I know you think the best way to make what you and Tig have stronger is to shut everything else the hell out of it, but trust me, that's a rookie mistake."

The sad panic that Joss had begun to feel was suddenly replaced with her original defensive anger…Gemma had called Tig a demon…a demon…she'd said he was evil…Joss wouldn't stand here and listen to anyone who was going to try to tell her what she had with Tig was wrong, and she stood up straight again, turning to Gemma with a jerk. "You don't understand what Tig and I have, no one does, so how could you possibly know what's best for it?"

"Joss," Gemma sighed and shook her head, grimacing a little, but not coming at her tooth and nail. "I'm not so old and decrepit that I don't understand what you and Tig feel for each other, even if I don't get all the…odd, little nuances of it." She clarified then her hand left Sam's neck and migrated to her hip. "But you have to learn to live as much outside of what you have with him as you live within it. You're moving into the highest position a woman can have in this life, and that's going to mean you better know how to survive without your old man. You are haven't thought enough about what could possibly happen in the future, even though you'd be the first one to understand how and why Tig would go to jail for this club if it came down to it for whatever reason!" Gemma paused, watching Joss as she stood there stymied, caught so off guard, so embarrassed by how much sense all of Gemma's tactics suddenly made…insisting that Joss live with her before the wedding, separating her from Tig…making Joss have to learn something that she'd never wished to be versed in…but she had to be…she was the next queen. Tig would do anything to save this club; it didn't matter to him that it could be something he'd rather not suffer. If it was for the good of his club, he'd do it. Gemma was right, and she knew she was right; it was all over her stern face. "It could happen, you know it could; I've lived through it, even Tara's lived through it…but you're yet to, and you don't have any kind of plan for getting through. Trying to figure that shit out while you're out here, alone, with the rest of the club looking to you isn't the place to be fumbling for answers."

A rushed exhalation left Joss's lungs without permission. She felt so inconsequential, Gemma knew what she was doing, had thought about every word, knew to pull Tara's name into this lecture because it made Joss realize just how undereducated she was…Tara had a plan, she'd already had to put it into use, but not Joss, no, never. Tig wasn't in some safe line of civilian work…he could be arrested…he could stand trial…he could go to jail, or worse yet, federal prison. If Joss couldn't handle being separated from him for only a few days, then how would she ever handle being away from him for…well, years? Years without her man, with the club struggling for solidarity beneath her thrown? Years of just herself, and the club…and that thing in the freezer…Oh God…Joss felt herself shaking on this inside, the thought that the thing in the freezer might one day be the only part of Tig she'd have to get her through. No, it couldn't be that way…she didn't want that, she'd never hold that little container and call it "her boy"…she didn't know how to feel that. Gemma, she needed Gemma…but she'd hurt the queen. It was out of place and had pretty much been deactivated by Gemma herself, but now Joss felt like it was a starting place, something to clear the air, at least a little, in the hopes that her old lessons might resume. "Gemma," she said, and stopped, had to lean against Sam, who snorted softly in encouragement. "It wasn't right, what I did, running off and getting—"

Gemma's heavy sigh cut her off. "Look," she said, sounding almost angry and even more tired of the thoughts she'd been having about it. "We'll just blame that on crazy pregnancy hormones." Her voice was as level and flat as her stare, there would obviously be no discussion about the elopement, or would there be? "It just would have been a good foundation for this club, a big event, make a big deal out of you and Tig, so the strength of your pairing was there for everyone to draw from incase anything bad does ever happen. When Clay and I got married, I made sure he gave me that property patch for the whole club to witness. It showed everyone he and I were stronger than anything that might attack SAMCRO. We all need that kind of moral boost ingrained in our memory when we're weakened." Gemma's smoky eyes flicked back up at Joss, full of spiteful disappointment, but even more hurt. "It wasn't 'your' wedding you ran out on."

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! But I have a good excuse! Two Saturdays ago we had a low grade tornado come through our backyard. It knocked out our electricity, ripped the roof off of some of our out buildings, sucked trees up and threw them back down and as it turns out, pulled the siding enough off of my barn that we had to replace it. I've been a little busy, but thankfully, the damage is all fixed and the fallen trees and limbs are all cleaned up. No injuries to me, my husband or any of my horses! So, now back to the story! Thank you all for your patience! - Grace


	50. Love Her to Death

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 50

"I don't get you Ope," Tig was pressing Opie too hard, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. Ope wouldn't talk, and Tig knew Jax had come by to make him some kind of offer, and though Tig couldn't prove it, he was pretty sure he knew what that offer was. Jax, the little shit fucker…it wasn't enough that he was rolling on his club; no, he was going to hack it up and pull pieces out of it, then leave it behind him to die. But Jax wasn't getting Opie…despite what Jax thought…or what Ope thought! And what did Ope think? That had always been a mass of confusing shapes and colors for Tig, and sometimes, like now, he wasn't even sure why Ope would feel like there was anything to run away from in SAMCRO. Shit, hadn't Tig fixed this a few days ago? What the hell was Ope's problem still? But Tig was coming closer to figuring it out…Ope was a strange bird…he didn't do anything the way Tig would have ever predicted anyone else would…and when it came to Ope's deal with Joss, well, that was downright repugnant. "You don't think about fucking her, I can tell. I don't know what the hell else there is for you to be all caught up in with my old lady, but it ain't that, is it?"

"Jesus," Ope groaned, and looked off towards the garage like he really wanted to be in there, back at work and not have to have this conversation, particularly not with Tig. But the more Ope leaned towards the garage, the more Tig stepped closer to him, making it impossible for Ope to look at anything else. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" He asked, throwing his hands up, or maybe trying to hide behind them, disturbed that Tig had seen through that black skull cap he always wore and knew the sick purity of his thoughts. Maybe Opie actually felt shame because it wasn't sex that drove him towards Joss? He should feel ashamed about that, damn it! How the hell did a guy even know he might be into a girl if he wasn't constantly thinking about bending her over the back of a chair and balling her? Besides, hadn't Ope seen Joss? That pretty face, those big, round perfect tits, that tiny waist and elegantly curving ass? Okay, so yeah, it sucked that it happened, and it sucked that Tig was powerless against its growth, but he had more than just sex going on with Joss, and not every vision of her was peppered with lube and handcuffs, but that was different; he loved Joss, he really really really loved her, loved her so fucking much that he ended up having more than just sex with her…and it sucked, but Tig would do anything to keep it going on forever nonetheless. He needed Ope for that to happen. Ope…nope, he didn't think about fucking Joss…what the hell was wrong with Ope? He was some kinda…sicko pervert! Opie didn't even like talking about Joss this way; the words he used weren't anywhere near graphic, they were as pristine as his thoughts and he couldn't look Tig in the eye, no matter what came out of his mouth. "You want to hear that, yes, I wanna do Joss? That I've got pictures of her on my bedroom ceiling? That'll make you feel better?"

Okay, so what the hell was Tig trying to make Ope say? And why would it be that? But yeah, as crazy as it was, it would actually make Tig feel better! Maybe it was because he and Joss were yet to have a real wedding night…that damn girl was his, more his than she'd ever been before, but it hadn't been consummated. What? What the fuck was "consummated?" Jesus Christ, was he turning into Ope? "Consummated" hell, Tig hadn't fucked his wife yet and God damn did he want to! Maybe it was all that frustrated energy coming out and pushing on Ope to give some sign that he was into Joss for her body? It didn't help that knowing his boy had been…well, that he'd had a boy, with Joss, that from her gorgeous body had come a son, Tig's son, he'd fathered her child. It was ironic, the last thing Tig wanted was another kid, but knowing that he'd made one grow inside Joss was really lighting a fire under all those XYY's…had them running free and acting wild. He wanted Joss, he wanted to fuck her and hold her close, feel her eyelashes fluttering softly against his skin and kiss her until they shared every breath and fuck her so hard she'd beg him to stop because the viciousness of it felt too good…shit.

Shit…but it was true, Ope didn't look at Joss with any lascivious or even disrespectful leers or gazes, he didn't imagine her shirt coming unbuttoned, he was never thinking about how great a big handful of her sweet ass might feel. There was a definite attraction of Ope to Joss, if the circumstances were right and Joss let him know to come on, Ope would gladly fuck the hell out of her…no, no he wouldn't, Ope would 'make love' to her…yeah, he did want her, but not all of it was based on pussy. Shit…were Ope's feeling for Joss that fucking real? Tig always knew that Ope carried a lot of respect for Joss, he'd placed her on a pillar, wanted a life with her, but fuck, were his feelings that…what was the word… honest? That sucked…it really did…and Tig was just beginning to understand why. Ope was running from the responsibility Tig had assigned him…Ope loved Joss, but definitely not the way Tig loved her, Ope would never understand what that was, he was too consumed with all these…decent…predictably noble sentiments for her…he loved her far too much to kill her. What if he couldn't do it? No…that wasn't going to be allowed, there was no other future that Tig was about to accept other than the one where Ope was here, in this club, hell, serving as the VP under Tig's leadership, and when the time came, it would be Ope who put an end to Joss's suffering and Tig's hell. "God damn it, Ope! This club needs you! So do I!"

"Yeah, you need me to commit murder!" Ope wasted no time in cutting right to the quick with such a coercive word, that was so not anywhere in Tig's thoughts. This was not murder! But before he could set the record straight, Ope raised an arm like a punch might fire forth, but nothing came. "What the hell goes on in your head? You've got these…these delusions of grandeur! What the fuck, Tig? You think you're some pharaoh or some shit? When you're gone, we'll just wrap up your knife, your bike, your old lady, and send them along into the underworld with you?"

Okay, so the concept was sort of Ancient Egyptian…but…he looked squarely at Opie, ready to own this whole conversation. "Yeah!" Tig proudly grunted and nodded his head sharply for added effect. "I am everything to that damn girl, and because I am, she'll do whatever I fucking tell her to do! And as your president, you'll also do whatever I fucking tell you to do, so get over it and start rolling the damn mummy bandages!"

But Ope shook his head, smiled with the confidence of someone who owned the next move. "You're not my president," he reminded Tig, and his smile spread thinly across his bearded features. "And nothing says you have to be."

God damn it! Tig's teeth clenched with how angry he was about how right Opie was. Damn Jax Teller! Patching over brothers without the vote of the club was unheard of, disrespectful and the mark of cowardice…but then, who was it that had introduced the idea of going AWOL to Ope? Ope was a good guy, he and Tig had their issues, they always would, over a lot of things, but none of those issues had ever stopped Ope from being a good guy. He was too good a guy to flake out on SAMCRO and run away to Never Never Land with Jax, that wasn't going to be well received by any other club that came across Ope in the future…and damn it, but Tig wasn't going to let Ope go down that road. Joss always had said that some day, he'd need a guy like Opie, and yeah, Tig would. He did need Ope, he was the only one he could trust to do right by Joss when the time came, to put her down in the ground with her old man in some way that saved her from having to disgrace herself by swallowing pills or holding a gun to her own head. Tig wasn't about to let that slip away, he'd fight for that; he'd fight for Joss, until Ope came around. And there was still one little vulnerable chink in the armor Opie was currently sporting. Tig hated that Ope had real, genuine, grown up feelings for Joss, but hey, they could be possessed and pressed into service the same way anything else could be. This club wasn't losing Opie, Tig wasn't losing Opie…and neither was Joss! Tig shook his head, biting down on his lower lip like he was just realizing something himself. "You walk out on this club you're not just walking out on me, Ope." Opie didn't look at him, but Tig knew he would, shortly. "You're walking out on Joss too, man. I trust you to take care of her the way she'll need to be taken care of, but who's going to be there for her if you run off?"

Tig saw Ope's big body jerk like he'd just walked into a wall, and he was fighting hard not to look at Tig still, but he lost that battle and stared hard into Tig's unrelenting eyes. Yeah, Tig had made the point to Ope that Tig had hoped he'd be able to make. Ope was weakening, but he was denying that he was, still full of fight, but not able to take it to the mat. "Yeah, real classy, you're using her as bait now?"

"She's mine, I can do whatever I fucking want to with her," Tig reminded, but kept himself in check, summoning that fatherly tone that he'd felt reawakened in the past few days and gave Ope a firm look. "And maybe I can't stop you from leaving, but God damn, Ope, if you love her that fucking much, then start acting like it!" Tig's chest was still puffed out, full of fire and ready to enforce his words, but still he was replaying what he'd just said…shit…were those the words that had really come out of his mouth? He wanted Ope to "act like" he "loved Joss that fucking much?" That was a good thing? Did he really want that? But fuck…fuck…it was too late to take that back now. Damn it, the whole reason he'd appointed Opie to what Ope saw as "murder" was because Tig was trying to get Ope off of Joss, not encourage him to "act like he loved her that fucking much!" Son of a bitch…just who was playing who in this conversation? But maybe this was the only way into Ope's head, play the noble card, Ope was a noble guy. Maybe this was the arrow that would finally hit its mark? How'd that old saying go? If you love something, set it free? Isn't that what Tig was suggesting to Ope?

But once again Ope looked away from Tig, distracted by a vehicle that was pulling onto the lot, Tig looking too. Joss's Explorer, and Ope had heard it and seen it first…shit, it was like he had some kind of radar for the damn girl! How the hell could Ope not see or even understand that he'd be giving Joss the only thing that Tig himself couldn't give her by sending her to her old man when the day did come? Christ, Ope…c'mon, he had to see it that way…that's what it was! And it would put things right between them…an eye for an eye…finally, there'd be peace for all involved!

Joss parked the truck, opened the door, she had both Ope's and Tig's attentions now, what was she doing here? Normally if she needed anything, she called Tig at work; she didn't just drive over to see him. Wait…what the fuck? That damn girl wasn't supposed to be driving! She was on God damn bed rest for another week at least! She was going to tear herself up, whether she was out to do it or not, and that thought had Tig's blood turning to lightening in his veins and he started over to her with long, angry strides, Opie matching his every footfall, the same thing on his mind, only Ope eventually did remember his place, and stopped dead, but gave Tig some sort of nod, almost like Ope was sending Tig out to act in his stead. Whatever, Tig couldn't be thinking about that anymore, there was Joss's safety and health to be corrected and assured…and Ope couldn't be counted on for that.

"Tig," Joss already looked apologetic and defensive, she knew she'd be getting clipped for not resting and instead, driving around and making him worry, that clearly hadn't been her intent, but what was rolling in Tig was already rolling; there wasn't any pulling back.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joss!" Tig stormed over, fear of what she may have already damaged inside herself fueling every twitching vein and every loud octave of his voice. He was still jacked up from his flustered faith in Ope, and now this. "What the fuck are you doing?" He stood over her now, feeling like he wanted to push her back into the truck, not enough to hurt her, but just enough to let off some of this steam, but Tig wasn't sure what would hurt her now, and he just balled up his fists and took a swing at the door, inches from her hip, leaving a small dent in the dark blue exterior, but the pain of crushed knuckles and pinched fingers at least did pull him back to his senses some. He took a deep breath, a little steadier now. "I leave you alone for a few hours and you're trying to kill yourself?"

Joss was shaking her head, but she knew better than to try and argue with him when he was like this. She looked up at him, trying to be a calming force with the surrender that was shining in her eyes, but she wasn't backing down. "Tig, please, I need to talk to you."

Tig still boiled a bit, his voice more than annoyed, but okay, she wanted to talk. "Why?" He stepped closer, pinning her against the truck without touching her, keeping her there, keeping her to himself, but also keeping her safe. If she couldn't move, she couldn't disconnect what the doctors had reconnected. He felt something put the squeeze on his heart every time he watched her stand up from a chair, go up the steps, or walk around the rooms of the house, and now she was driving? Holy shit! Joss sighed, she may have wanted to talk, but she didn't want to say what she had to say. She wrung her hands in her dirty T-shirt…the one with stylized drawing of a horse and rider jumping a fence on it…it was dirty, so were her hands…gray and white hairs clung to her black leggings…fuck! Tig stiffened and lumbered over her, any quietness that was slowly coming over him burned off in an instant. He looked at her and growled, "were you up at that horse?"

"Tig!" Joss shouted in reply, her only faltering showing in how one of her hands pressed to his chest, trying to steady him and maybe even push him back a little, but her eyes were on his, more determined now to say what she had to say. She sighed, but then, all on one breath she told him. "We have to get married again."


	51. Please Help!

Hello all,

Thanks for reading! I'm hoping you can help me with something. I'm concerned about this story, mostly because the reviews have been dropping off…a lot. The most recent chapters are getting hits, but no one is saying anything about them, good or bad. It's been my experience that when people have nothing good to say, they do the polite thing and say nothing at all. Okay, if that is the case, and you are all getting bored, or frustrated, or are disappointed with "Three Princes," could someone please let me know what or why or how, so I can begin the process of fixing it?

Reviews help me, and all the other writers here, so very very much! As well as being something that lifts our spirits higher than you can imagine, they also keep us on track, give us ideas, assist us in some awesome ways on how to get to the next step in the tale we're telling. Writers here can't live without reviews, and that does include all of us, not just me, personally.

But, if what you are trying to tell me with your silence and lack of reviewing is that this story is off the mark, or that you aren't enjoying it anymore, then okay, I will move onto another project and let this go. I've been working in fanfic to teach myself to write prose and novellas, and you all have helped me in my education. I thank you all for that immensely! But, if I'm getting worse instead of better, then that is something I need to face, and "Three Princes" has seen its last days. I'm open to any suggestions on how to improve my writing, and I hope you make some! You have no idea how much a part of this story you become when you take the time to shoot a few little words my way! I do love writing this for both myself and you, but if it's not good enough, then it's not good enough, is it? Thanks again and I wish all of you well!

Grace


	52. Proposal

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 52

"I don't know what the fuck happened, Joss! But I gotta feeling it begins with God damn 'Gemma!'" Tig was fuming, he'd had too much going against how he wanted things today, Joss not staying home on the couch, and something club related was pissing Tig off too, and right in the middle of it, Joss had showed up and dropped the wedding bomb. And now her man was ranting around, stomping his feet, beating his chest, fussing like some out of control, psycho two year old that had missed his afternoon nap. Most people backed away from Tig when he was like this, trying to stay clear of whatever big crazy he was about to unleash, but Joss had always been able to see through the layers of strife like this when it befell him.

It helped too that Joss had already tackled Sam's tantrums this morning, and despite Gemma's ass kicking visit, Joss was all warmed up to deal with this. "Tig," she said calmly, stepping away from where they stood by the open bay door, getting Tig to follow her further into the lot where everything he said wasn't quite so perceptible to those around them. "Don't, you'll regret those words and that thinking later on," she said to him, her voice like some audible, calming salve that glazed over his tirade, but Tig fought its effects, scowling back at her and flinched at her like he wanted her to somehow prove it. Joss was already nodding her assurance, a bit glad for Tig's 'profane' thoughts and the use of the queen's name, this would help to illustrate why they needed to have another wedding, a real wedding, to not just cement the trust the club needed to have in them, but also make Tig see how much respect would come with that, and why it was needed. "Will you let anyone talk about me that way when you head this club?"

Tig froze, but the frustrated and angry visage remained, teeth clenching under the weight of the word he tried so hard to say, but not admit to at the same time. "No!" It finally fired from his mouth like some spastic bullet, jamming the rest of him, he couldn't even walk and stomp anymore he was so mad at everything, he just stood there and staggered with a quivering jaw. "What are you doing going up to that horse?" It was the next round obviously left in the chamber, and it had ignited and ejected, despite that they'd left the "going up to that horse" stuff behind a few moments ago.

There was always a little bit of fear mixed into these angry states when Tig had them. He was clearly terrified that Joss had hurt herself; her being hurt or sick was something he couldn't physically fight; all he could do was be terrified that he'd lose her, and he hated being terrified. She'd have to soothe that terror before he'd settle down enough to talk. She felt so badly for Tig, this 'crazy' having been whipped up mostly due to that damn doctor prescribed "four to six weeks" without sexual activity…that had to end, soon! Sex was so much more than sex; it was how they felt themselves together, united as one.

Hmm…what would Tig do if they were ever separated by a jail or prison sentence? Is this what he'd become; an angry, scared knot that would never untangle back into his old form? How would either one of them survive, intact, if a real separation were to befall them? And how would they lead this club through it? The wedding…that damn wedding was becoming a bright light at the end of some dark, twisting tunnel now. Joss wasn't exactly sure how it was going to help she and Tig stand strong on their own yet, but she knew if she could get Tig to listen, if she could get him to agree to the wedding, maybe there'd be other ways to feel close to one another, no matter how far apart they were.

But that was far off in the future; she had to eradicate her man's fears now. "I'm fine, baby," Joss said softly and stepped nearer to him, moving slowly, watching his eyes watch her every move, and when she felt like it was safe, she reached out and touched him lightly and lovingly on the arm, so relieved when Tig didn't pull it away from her. "Everything is okay. I'm sorry for making you worry, but I'm fine," she said again, putting more and more solid ground beneath her man's feet with every utterance, "it's okay," she half whispered to him, holding her arms away from her torso, open to any inspection he may have wanted to run, but when she heard him finally able to gather breath enough to sigh, Joss knew it wouldn't be necessary. She never let go of him though, her hand had remained half around the underside of his strong, tattooed forearm, melting this worry skin to skin. The slightest bit of contact between them…yeah, there was so much power in their touch…but that power had to be expanded. He was coming down on his own now, the progress was slow, but it was happening. There, she'd been able to deescalate this at least a little bit, but she said nothing now and wouldn't. The next words had to be Tig's, he'd let her know if he wanted to talk about this now…or if he even could…something was up with club business, and since he'd been standing there grunting at Ope when Joss had pulled up, it had to involve him.

Tig watched her still like she might go white and fall into a limp heap, he'd seen it happen once after all, had felt it happen once before, and the memory was obviously locked up deep inside him, rattling chains and scratching at the walls along with so many other things he'd seen and done that he couldn't forget, no matter how badly he wanted to. Tig hardly ever settled down gracefully, his eyes still burned, his teeth still clenched, but gradually, it was waning, she could feel the tense muscle in his forearm giving in. "Joss!" Tig ground out next and his heavy black boot kicked at the gravel, sending little rocks flying in all directions, but there was nothing more behind his flustered outcry, it was just the swan song of such a leaden fear that was slowly shriveling, for now. He was laying down this worry, but she had better not have been lying to him about being "okay."

He'd said her name, called to her, demanding reassurance and Joss looked up at him abidingly and nodded her head; yes, she was fine, yes, she was here, she always would be. Her fingers crept tenderly around to the other side of the arm they held, gently turning his palm upwards, and she softly pressed hers against it with her other hand, the thundering pace of his pulse dissipating against her fingertips that brushed his wrist. He'd been afraid to touch her the last few days, or allow her to be too near him, so certain that he wouldn't be able to fight the urges it would arouse, but now, he was giving in at least this little bit. Tig looked down, her touch more in his blood now than it had been for so long, and with an even breath, he returned her nod. This is what SAMCRO had to see, this was the power between her and Tig that they had to feel. But how did she say that to Tig? He was dead set against giving anyone any indication of what he truly felt for her or what she felt for him; he hardly admitted it to himself most of the time.

"Why?" His question was abrupt; picking up now from her announcement about the wedding as if there had never been any fitful break in that conversation, but Joss hadn't expected any less. "I thought you were happy with what we—"

"I am, I always will be, Tig!" Joss hardly ever interrupted anything he said, but this situation called for it, she wasn't about to have Tig thinking he'd somehow failed her. "That was our wedding, nothing is ever going to be able to take that away from us, and there won't be a day in my life with you that I won't think of it without a smile and a tear in my eye." She smiled a bit now at the memory; who else's wedding was blessed with the symbol of love everlasting by the proud, weathered remains of the county's oldest church, as well as the graces of mortality by standing barefoot in dead raccoon? "But we still need to do it again, more to normal specs this time, something that resembles…well, something with emphasis, that everyone will remember like it's part of some kind of…tapestry of SAMCRO."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tig's normal annoyed tone was genuine now, he obviously wasn't feeling this "for the club" vibe, and the word "tapestry" had seemed to throw him in particular, he was silently repeating it now and screwing his face up as he did.

"Yes, 'tapestry,'" Joss replied, hoping that maybe he'd catch on. "In the Dark Ages into the Medieval Period, tapestries were woven to mark the most significant events in a kingdom's history, they were the local news broadcast as well as being what gave the common man access to his king's victories and decrees," Joss sighed, she hadn't meant to sound like she was on some PBS show about historical textiles, but well, she did and it was all reflected in the look on Tig's face.

"So we gotta get married again, and weave a rug?" He was tired of talking about this and wasn't making any effort to even try to understand. Tig started to shake his hand, removing his hand from hers and pointing at her truck, calling this ridiculous conversation to a close. "Joss, go home. You're not supposed to be here, driving and shit anyway. Go, get out of here, you need to be resting, so drive back to the house, carefully, and don't talk to Gemma anymore today."

Damn it…Joss sighed; she couldn't leave, not without making him comprehend how important this was. There was little chance of Tig being more open to this conversation when he got home if he was dismissing it like he was now. But once he did understand, Tig would be for this too, she knew he would be…but getting there was going to be a long road. "Tig, please!" She begged him, but he'd already ordered her once, she was on borrowed time now. "I'm not asking because I have some kind of…regrets about what we did, I never will! But, I've realized that we skipped some things, some very very important things, and we have to go back and do them, or things aren't ever going to be right." Again Joss stepped forward, taking his hand in both of hers and looking up at him with imploring eyes and her heart beating in her throat…they had to do this, they just had to. "Please."

Tig looked down at her for a few seconds, his expression ranging from "what the hell is wrong with you" to somewhere in between "this is a stupid idea" and "shit"…good, Joss knew what would hopefully be coming next, and the longer it took Tig to answer, the more confident she was about what he'd say…he always took a while to say something he didn't want to say. He sighed, began shaking his head, his body language so against what his words were about to convey. "Fuck, little girl! Why the fucking hell do you want this?" His voice was still loud, he still tried to fight this, backed away from her as he spoke, trying to get away from it before she somehow got him to agree to it, but he kept on talking. "What are you trying to do to me, Joss? After everything…you really really want this?"

No…she didn't…oh hell, why'd she go so overboard with the damn tapestries instead of just saying what she meant? Why the hell hadn't Gemma just explained it for that matter? Well…Joss knew that one, it was a test…that both she and Tig had failed…and now, they had to get an "A" plus plus on the make-up quiz. "No, Tig it's not about what I want or even about me," she began to say, and realized that part of her had put the same expectations on her man that Gemma had placed on both of them weeks ago. That wasn't fair, and Joss also wasn't about to reveal everything to him the way Gemma had slapped her in the face with it either. No, there was a better way to show him, a much better way.

Author's Note: I owe some very heartfelt "thank you's" to Live Free Die Well, Justrae9903, Sandpiper86, Kassey4221, Lena Illini, hmc16, Dutch'76, MelanthiaChase, Soagirlforever, Bad Company, Toia, AlyKat4Life and Go4itgirl! Thank you for being there as I sat here doubting myself and my abilities! Knowing that you are all out there and you would miss this story has saved it! It may take me a few chapters to do so, but be on the look out, because I will be thanking you all in more "personal" and appropriate manner, within each coming chapter! You'll see what I mean!;-) Thank you again, you guys are all awesome! I'd write for you any time!:-)


	53. Warrior Princess

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 53

"I used to sleep up here on hot nights when I was a prospect," Tig was saying, some sense of nostalgia pulling at him now that they stood on the clubhouse roof together. He was much more at ease, the breeze moving freely through his wild, black hair, the tails of his gray Teller-Morrow shirt flapping at his hips, the sun behind him but still lighting his lucid blue eyes as they looked out over a view he obviously hadn't seen in years. Standing on top of the clubhouse gave him the security of seeing everything that meant so much to him, and that's exactly why Joss had thought to bring him up here, even though Tig wasn't at all for her climbing the old access ladder that hung three-quarters of the way down the clubhouse face. He'd grumbled and bellowed and tried to stop her the whole time, but once they were up here, he was quietly distracted, like he missed being up here. Joss knew what it was that had put an end to Tig's moments of solitude on the roof…Jax had claimed this place, usually came up here to do some serious two dimensional musings on how the world had fucked him over. But this spot had been Tig's first, and it would be Tig's again. SAMCRO's roof was pleasingly free of deposed princes.

Joss smiled, giving Tig space now, watched him as he walked nearer and nearer to the edge of the roof, surveying all that lay before him with some smug look of satisfaction that gave her so much hope. He wasn't the angry, panicked mess that had been yelling and flailing at her in the parking lot, it was clearly a different world up here for him…he used to sleep up here! "And did the pigeons and seagulls wake you up in the morning?" She asked and laughed a little, because the evidence of the bird's roosting was all around them; feathers and droppings, bits of discarded nesting materials all around the scuttle hatches and bulkhead. "I'm surprised you're not known as 'The Bird Man of SAMCRO!'" she laughed and caught the corner of Tig's mouth turn up into a crooked grin as well. Her man would have been some sixteen years younger when he used to hold this "top of the world" so dear, which would have still made Tig older than Joss was now, but there was a such a feeling of…destiny that hovered all around Tig up here. It had been his perch as a prospect and it would be his barbican as a king.

"I had a tent; the fucking birds used to play jingle-jangle on the door zipper at first light, they were after whatever I grabbed for breakfast." Tig answered as he looked back over his shoulder at her and Joss couldn't help laughing again. "Yeah, it's always funny until you watch a seagull puke up a hotdog." He expanded, and the absurdity of it had Joss really laughing now…there were so many questions to be asked about such a statement, it was so bizarre, but Tig carried on as if it was the most common sort of happening, lifted his foot up onto the two cinderblock high lip of the façade that prevented anyone from being able to walk straight off the roof…or perhaps roll off out of their tent…again Joss snickered. Tig didn't notice, just looked off at everything he could see, leaning forward on his bent knee and drew in a deep breath, whatever the club business/Opie stuff he'd been dealing with, Joss's health and the wedding shit having faded away.

But…the wedding shit had to make a return; that had been why she'd gotten him up here after all. He was a lot easier to talk to now, but Joss had to be careful, Tig was literally on the edge, and when she brought it up again, he might go just as crazy as before. Okay, work in pictures, not in words. She stepped up beside him, overseeing all of what Tig did, and a sense of pride hit her in a way that she hadn't quite imagined it would when she stepped to the edge like this. The thoughts in her head and the feelings they were connecting were more than fitting, even if they were over the top. But Joss smiled as they rose up within her, the task of convincing Tig about this second wedding solved in one panoramic glance of the clubhouse and garage and everything that was SAMCRO. She was the 'daughter' of a king and queen, standing upon the battlements of her castle, offering her dowry to her prince, who stood beside her bursting with pride in it all.

"This is why," she said to him as she looked out over the lots, feeling Tig looking at her like he didn't follow what she meant, but Joss kept her eyes forward and continued on undaunted. "It's not about us, it's about all of this," her arm rose and swept across the curmudgeonly looking blue and white walls of Teller-Morrow Auto Repair, over all of the bikes backed to the curb, waiting like steeds for the call of their masters, over the miniscule forms of Tig's brothers, knights of the realm who went about the business of keeping the kingdom moving along, over the scattered civilians, subjects who waited for and dropped off their vehicles to the most trusted garage in Charming and the club that kept this turf safe, her outstretched arm finally setting like the sun over the fortress they stood upon, her fingers and palm angled down in blessing of the big, blue circular reaper emblem that dignified and distinguished the clubhouse. "We need to give them 'their' wedding; we need to show them something that will let them know we are as solid as the place we're standing on now."

For a moment only the breeze made a sound, whistling softly through the many vents and shafts studding the roof, but she had Tig's attention, he was looking at her, the words she'd said moving through him, but it was still unclear as to whether he would really let them in. His ice blue eyes became turbid and Joss felt her hopes descending; what else did she have to do to get him to understand how important this was? That it wasn't about them or Gemma, it was about the club, the club was the only winner, or loser, here. She fought not to seem desperate or disappointed, purposefully looking away from Tig and focusing on the realm that sprawled before them incase her expression was conveying something forbidden. The breeze picked up, her long, black hair fluttering behind her, one rebel strand looping around and tickling at her eyelashes with its red tongues, but Tig startled her by catching it suddenly in his fist then tucked it gently behind her ear.

"Ope's leaving the club," He delivered the words like she'd somehow been waiting to hear them forever and the oddness of their irrelevance struck Joss first.

"What?" She asked before she even understood what Tig had said, but now she was breaking it down, taking it in and looking up at her man like he must have made that up. "How do you know? Has he said that he is? Why? Where would he go? He can't do that, can he?" She hadn't expected some waterfall of questions to spill out of her mouth like that and the longer Tig's silence became, and the more creases in his brow, Joss knew she'd asked far more than he could think of answers for. But this couldn't be happening…their 'to be' kingdom was dissolving in front of them! Opie couldn't leave; he was born into the club! If he left, what message would that send to everyone else who wore a reaper cut? Yes, Ope had for sure faced some terrible hardships in SAMCRO, but how could he leave it?

It was instinct that made her look to Tig the way she was now, awaiting his answer, ready to believe the interpretation of things he'd formulated, but Tig only shook his head, his lips curved nervously over his teeth, trying to sigh away the heaviness that draped him, but his eyes carried more than he could try to shuffle off. Joss had always told Tig that Ope would be someone he'd need one day, and Tig had come to trust that…but that dullness that overtook the usual blue glow in Tig's eyes spoke of how injured Tig felt at losing a brother…at losing Ope…it was some amazing, dark tale, but somewhere, way below the spiked surface of Tig and Opie's trespasses, was the genuine affinity that Tig held for Ope. And worse than the hurt of losing a brother who Tig, in his own bruised and broken way, also considered a friend, was that Tig felt responsible for it all.

No, Joss didn't want Tig to be feeling that, it wasn't all his fault…but she'd never dreamed that Opie was so important to Tig, that Tig wanted Ope to be there as much as he obviously did. There was no brushing this off though, no simple words to remove the pain of this loss, but Joss still persisted in trying to find some, looking up at Tig and feeling the crushing weight of his mournful stare, but just as she opened her mouth to say…whatever it was she was going to say, Tig spoke again.

"I get what you're saying, Joss." He told her after taking a large breath, like he was trying to chase away this feeling by crowding it out with air. "About the wedding, yeah, I got it, okay?" He sounded defensive and annoyed despite the despondency that continued to rule in his eyes, and then he looked away from her, "maybe if we did this right the first time, Ope'd be staying put."

Oh God…Joss's heart swelled and grew sore in her chest, her goal had been not to wield this wedding revelation like it was the weapon it had been in Gemma's hands, but it looked like she'd done it anyway. "Tig, no! I doubt there was anything you could have done to prevent—"

"Maybe there was though, and I didn't do it." He immediately countered, a tinge of anger in his voice now, but it was all reserved for himself. "Go ahead, do whatever you gotta do to get this other wedding together, do it fast. I gotta find a way to stop the bleeding."

Joss nodded, this wedding only became more and more important by the second. "I will," she told him, promised him. "Next Saturday, can you get word to the honored guests about it, in all the other charters?"

"Yeah," Tig answered without sounding like he was looking forward to the event, but then, neither was Joss really. They were duty bound to do this, they'd already had 'their' wedding, now was time to sacrifice. "What else you need?"

Joss sighed…sacrifice…sacrifice…"I need that dress from Gemma," she said and hung her head, but really, if that was going to help this club stay together, if wearing that awful Swan Lake contraption would somehow make Opie stay, then yeah, it was worth it. How could Ope be leaving? And how had he ever gotten to mean so much to Tig? Whatever, Joss was glad to know it; SAMCRO would need Ope as much as Tig would need him. Ope was fair, Ope knew what was right; Ope was open to new ideas, or new interpretations of old ones. Ope might also have been a little clingy, lingered over hurt feelings and broken hearts, but he also loved this club, this club he'd been born into, and he was exactly who Tig needed as his right hand man.

"I'll talk to Clay about the dress," Tig was nodding and slowly turned away from his future dominion to look levelly at Joss, "you inviting Gemma?"

Joss sighed and actually felt herself able to smile a small smile. "Yeah, I owe her a lot of formality that we skipped before, so the only invitation, with RSVP card and the whole deal that I put into the mail will be to her."

Tig nodded again, his approval evident and he looked a bit relieved to hear that Joss wasn't holding some kind of grudge against the queen. It was good to see that somehow she'd made things a little better for him in at least some way. But then his brow creased again, thoughtfully this time, some idea just having occurred to him that seemed to be more than pleasing to him. In fact, he looked nearly excited about whatever this idea was, like Joss would be so surprised when she found out what it all was about. "Get two of them formal invitations with the card things. I got one I wanna send out too."

Hmmm, that was certainly curious! Tig was inviting someone to their wedding that garnered an invitation? Wow…who could that have been? Tig had a mystery guest! But now was no time to be poking around for details, he was only looking for her compliance, not her nosey inquiries. "Okay, I will." Joss again promised, then looked down onto the gavel covered, tarred roof they stood upon. "And I'd like to do it here, the clubhouse. I know it's not what Gemma planned with gazebos and everything, but I think that if we're truly doing this for the club, then we have to take it to the club, not bring the club to it."

"Yeah," Tig agreed, his thoughts still spent on whoever it was he was sending that invitation to, until he suddenly sighed heavily and kind of shook his head, thrust his hands in his pockets and looked hopefully at Joss. "You think this'll work?"

It wasn't often that Tig turned to her for answers like this, he knew his way around this life, he was the one who kept her safe within it and taught her the finer points of survival upon this savanna, but now her hunter, her protector was looking to her for comfort and assistance. "I do," Joss said softly, but confidently and knew she was going to have to explain why before Tig even asked. She stepped closer to him, looking up at him with gentle eyes. "You know what we have, how we feel about each other, and I know it too," she paused, Tig paying attention to every word she spoke in such an adorable way. "But to everyone else on the outside of what we have, I think it tends to look like some…insane obsession. That's the image we have to erase, that's the thought we have to replace with the credence of strength and unity and devotion. We've got to open up what we have to them, baby, just a little bit…just enough to let it breathe and let everyone around it see that it's not just strong enough to support you and me, but all of them too."

She'd expected Tig to nod his approval and agree with her again, but that didn't happen. He took another deep breath and Joss was stunned to hear it shudder into his lungs and catch in his throat, then his shoulders stiffened as if something had come crashing down on him, and Tig swiftly turned his back to her with a jerk. Joss froze, a cold feeling literally washing over her, not sure what to do because she wasn't sure what this was, her stomach beginning to tie itself in knots of worry. What had she said that was wrong? What had Tig hoped she'd say that she obviously hadn't? His big body shook once or twice and then on another shivering breath, without looking at her, he attempted to speak. "What if we…what if…what if we open it up and…" he was breathing hard, like he was running from something, or perhaps like something had already caught him. He shook again, this time by his own power, like trying to free the rest of the words he was trying to say, no matter how much he didn't want to say them, but whatever they were, he was obviously already thinking them, non-stop. It was such a fight to just exhale now for him, he clawed for control of his thoughts, tried desperately to make her understand this new hell, but kept his back to her. "What if it goes away?"

Oh…Oh God…Joss's heart pounded in her chest for him, splintering to bits at the pain she knew her man was feeling, tears in her eyes for how wonderful he was, more wonderful than anyone was ever going to understand or know. He didn't want to have what they had, he didn't want to feel what he did for her, and he didn't want Joss to feel what she did for him, but he also couldn't lose it, he couldn't even bear the thought that he might. Joss always knew he loved her and that she was special to him, but now she knew that to Tig the undeniable, hungry beast that was their love was just as special, that he needed it as much as he needed her. "Oh, Tig," she tried to say, but it tumbled out of her mouth a breathless whisper and Joss reached forward, trying to slip her hand into his to comfort him with the solace of a touch, but this time Tig jerked his arm away, both his hands raising with a quick intake of breath like he'd been suddenly burned. Okay, he was feeling far too much to have her touch added to it all, she understood. One more time, Joss had to talk him down, and she knew she could…she just had to get herself together, stop shaking the way she was, stop the tears that threatened to pour down her face…Tig loved her, and he didn't want anything to change what that was.

Joss wiped at her eyes and began shaking her head fiercely even though Tig couldn't see her. "No," she was saying again and again, feeling almost like she was spinning in circles with the dizzying storm of emotions that rained down on them both and when Joss opened her eyes again, she found herself facing Tig. "That won't happen," she was telling him, words leaving her lips at a speed far slower than the one at which they raced through her mind. "That won't happen," she heard herself saying again, looking up into Tig's opening eyes, some minimal contact renewed at least in their shared stare. "I love you, Tig! You know I do! And I can only do that one way, and it's the same way that I know is the only way for you to love me! It's not what everyone else has; it's not what everyone else wants, and it's not what anyone else even understands, but what it has that no one else's love has it that our love will never die, it won't ever wither, it won't ever 'go away!' It's too prevailing, it's too…viciously demanding! It will thrash us around and bleed us dry before it lets us go because that is the power we've given it!" Joss heard every word she said, could feel the intensity burning in her eyes, muscles taut, ready for a battle she suddenly realized she'd been born to fight…born…the thing in the freezer…Tig's boy…their boy…never die…never never never die. Tig was focused on her in a way Joss had never seen before…how it happened Joss didn't recall, but both her hands were on either side of Tig's face, tilting his eyes down to hers the way he so often took her under the chin and turned her eyes up to his, and just like she looked and listened to him intently, Tig was giving her the same audience. "We are 'it' and 'it' is us! And I swear to you now and forever that I will be the guardian of all those things, and I will fight to keep them protected, and I promise you, Tig, that with every immeasurable ounce of my distorted heart and daggered soul, that I will not fail either of us!"

The wind was more prominent, blowing against each of them in intermittent warm gusts that Joss suddenly realized wasn't the wind at all, but the labored breaths of her and her man. Neither of them spoke, no words dared traipse across the hallowed ground that hung between them; space burned and blessed by the fiercest entity that either of them had ever known…strong enough to surround their kingdom, ferocious enough to destroy its enemies. The power of it pulled them together, Tig's arms encompassing her, drawing her back against the bulkhead doors with a forceful lunge, his mouth over hers before Joss could so much as blink.

Tig no longer shook or shuddered, he was firm and formidable against her, kissing her with crushing fervor, his lips and tongue engaging in wild competition for the taste of her mouth, Joss eager to placate them both. He understood, but more than that, he believed her, and there was no better way of conveying that than this. This was as close as he'd been to her since…since he'd told her he loved her, on their wedding night, in the hospital…a moment forever enshrined within her heart that was yet to be fully celebrated. But now, on the roof, after the pledge she'd made to him, Joss felt stronger than ever, and she wanted her man. "It's alright," she tried to say, her words jumbled and hissed against Tig's ardent kisses, every corpuscle in her pale skin painfully aware of the muscle that held her to the broadness of the heaving chest that pinned her against steel. Tig's need, his constrained desires threatened to tumble loose and trample her. "It's alright," she whispered again as he paused to suck in a breath, as lost and drunk as she was, looking at her with dilated pupils, as full of her as she was of him. "Don't stop, it's okay if you want to fu—"

"No, it's not, and you know it." A bit of sobriety breezed between them, Tig once again surprising her with the strength he had to keep either one of them from hurting the other in any way. "I want to, baby, I do! But not yet, okay?" His breath came in gasps but he couldn't have been more set on what would and would not happen; he wanted to be close, but not at the cost of injury to her. Joss's hands were still flat against the gray polyester of his garage shirt when Tig's fingers suddenly appeared between them, three of his fingers wrapping around the button placket and giving it a solid yank, curled, dark hairs over the expanse of his skin separating the halves of the shirt, and he kissed her again, tongue twisting hers into a corner until he couldn't kiss her any deeper than he was, one of his hands grabbing her wrist and plunging her fingers inside his shirt, pressing them to his burning skin as he broke the kiss, looking at her with so much control, but so much need. "Just touch me," he whispered, and leaned into her more, groaning a bit as Joss's hand dove deeper beneath the fabric, the feel of his body making her breathe more rapidly and shallow as Tig's eyes slowly hooded over. She could feel him dissolve into the loving pressure of her fingertips, his form curling even more around hers until Joss wasn't sure how he managed to stay on his feet.

"Okay," she nodded, her voice hushed against Tig's hunger, both her hands obeying his request, cupping every protuberance of muscle, tracing every hard contour, her lips tracking down his neck and into the dark hairs on his beautiful chest. "But if you need it, I will give you more."

Her mouth pressed to the skin just above his pectoral muscle, her intent to move downwards from there, but Tig's thumb and finger were soon under her chin, tilting her head up, making her look at him, eye to eye. "I know," he said, the light flickering in his clear blue eyes again as he took in a new sense of what Joss had vowed she'd be and what she'd protect. Tig nodded subtly and continued to stare into her eyes, grateful and amazed. "I know."

Author's Note: Sorry this is late! New carpet and new cabinets being put in the clubhouse today…had me running and waiting there instead of sitting here spinning Many thanks to Dutch'76, Bad Company, Go4ItGirl, hmc16, Toia, Kassey4221 and Sunnylikessunshine90 for their ever so treasured reviews! You guys keep me going and add so much to this story! Thank you!


	54. Thread Bare

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 54

"Just slash at it like it's a big…jabberwocky!" Joss insisted, standing on her living room coffee table fitted in the Swan Lake dress that was not giving up its fight for survival. Juice's Lauren knelt on the floor, trimming off some of the skirt length as best she could. They'd had to switch to a different cutting tool, scissors hadn't worked, they wouldn't cut through all the organza and tulle netting, and the handkerchief design made it impossible to get an even, straight hemline. But the butchering had to continue, Joss needed this stupid dress adapted to riding bitch!

But Lauren paused in her work, looking up at Joss and laughing a little at the mythical, monstrous beast reference Joss had associated with her own wedding gown, but Lauren's voice also held wisdom. "Do you really want me to just start hacking away with this razor blade so close to your legs?" She asked, and kind of sighed and shook her head a little, like she couldn't believe they were actually doing this, but if Joss wanted it, then yeah, Lauren was in.

Joss thought for a moment, Lauren had a point…yeah, she'd been a good choice as maid of honor! But this dress…this damn, day glow white, poofy, triangle shape making prom dress on steroids was still far too intact. She looked at Lauren with serious eyes. "It's worth the risk, go for it!"

Lauren laughed again and bent her head back over the insolent overskirt, "Snicker-snack!" She replied, and the razor blade sang a brief, dull, shredding note along the organza, another eight inch puffy panel of ballerina gown falling to the table top, slain.

"Yay!" Joss cheered, pumping her fist and rocking her hips in some over embellished cheer that made them both laugh again, but the lace covered loop of fabric that went from the top of the bodice around the back of her neck cut into her skin every time she moved. Once more Joss hooked her finger under it, trying to yank some give into it, but to no avail. "I wish we could do something with this stupid halter strap deal," she complained as Lauren returned to her hacking, "Not only is it uncomfortable, but it looks like I'm wearing boob suspenders!"

"Joss!" Lauren dropped the razor blade and then started to guffaw. "Don't make me laugh when I'm slashing! You could lose a toe!"

"Oh well," Joss laughed and sighed. "We can handle little messes like that, I've got piranhas." She smiled down at Lauren and the two girls laughed again.

It was good to have something to laugh at because Joss had another wedding bearing down on her in just two days…and there was still so much to be done. She'd been so dead set against everything that Gemma had wanted and planned, but now Joss was more than impressed with how well Gemma had held up under the stress and confusion of putting it all together. Wow, Joss had really screwed up…she'd had someone else to plan her whole wedding, someone who knew what it had to be, and now all Joss could do was guess…and wish that she could enlist Gemma's help. But no, she wouldn't do that, she wouldn't go crying to Gemma, or even look for the queen's approval. But it wasn't out of spite or scorn; Joss had to prove to Gemma that she not only understood why this wedding was important, but that she could also do it all by herself, too. Well, maybe not all by herself, Lauren had been helping a great deal of course, and even Happy's Lauren took time to make a few phone calls to caterers and florists while Samantha, Happy's new daughter, was down for a nap. Hap's new daughter…that thing in the freezer…

Footsteps coming down the hall distracted Joss before she was lost in the depths of something unfamiliar again, and there was Chucky coming out of the room where Joss's computer was, the bridal wear catalog tucked under his arm. "Got some bad news, Joss." He told her with an apologetic wince. "The dress you wanted for Lauren, the 'Melanthia,'" he specified because he didn't have enough fingers to hold open the catalog and point it out. "I just called and 'Charming Wedding' only has it in a size twelve."

Both girls groaned, looking at each other. "Damn it!" Joss sighed, "But that's the dress! It's perfect! Black satin, strapless with that cute little lace shrug and short enough to get on and off of Juice's bike in, but still be formal!"

Lauren was nodding her head, agreeing with every word. "Can they take it in?" She asked Chucky hopefully.

He sighed himself and pointed to the deconstruction they were under taking on the coffee table. "Why is it that you two are tackling those alterations by yourselves, again?" He asked and both Joss and Lauren groaned another time…there was no place in Charming that could have any of the tailoring done in less than five days. Just when it seemed Joss had something solved and locked in for this wedding, it managed to fall apart on her at what was ever becoming the last minute. She'd have to find Lauren another dress…but what now; Goodwill? She hoped not! This wedding wasn't as grand as the one Gemma was planning, but Joss wasn't about to let it have that second hand feel!

"Well, what about that other dress?" Lauren was asking, hope flickering over her features. "The one that we ruled out because it didn't come in black, but we both said we liked it?" Lauren had Joss's full attention, but they'd paged through so many dresses that morning Joss counted remember which ones had been in the top ten now, and she waved her hands for Lauren to please elaborate further…the wedding depended on it. "It was burgundy lace, sleeveless, A-line and tea length with a floaty, little ruffle of black lace around the hem?"

The picture that Joss's memory had grabbed hold of forever was finally flashing back now, and Chucky had shuffled the bridal catalog onto the end table by the couch, nimbly flipping the pages with one fingered grace. "Here it is!" He announced with a smile and tapped at the photo with his other finger. "The 'Toia!'" He read aloud. "Want me to call them back?"

"Yes!" Both Joss and Lauren answered in unison, then looked at one another and had time to laugh again, at least for a second.

"Alright, let's just stay positive here before we even find out that the only they have is a size twenty-four or something!" Said Joss, looking down at Lauren and over at Chucky. "If we think we can handle this atrocity I'm wearing right now, maybe we can handle your dress too if need be." It was a long shot, but Joss needed something to believe in right now, but she could tell by the way Lauren stalled in nodding her agreement that it wasn't really the most practical of suggestions. They had no idea what they were doing; Lauren had never sewn before, and Joss's experience with needle and thread was mostly limited to putting on or taking off various patches and badges. But she wouldn't let herself give up…she couldn't give up…this wedding was for the club!

"You know," Chucky hadn't left to go back and check the net and then call "Charming Wedding" yet and Joss was almost afraid to ask why, fearing that maybe he already knew something about the "Toia" that she and Lauren didn't. "My Bubbe was a seamstress," he began to relate to and Joss and Lauren who looked at him strangely; now was no time for fond remembrances, but Chucky continued. "I practically grew up in her shop, she used to let me work the foot pedal of her sewing machines while I watched her stitch straight seams, gussets and everything in between," he paused again and met the hopeful stares he'd provoked out of the two girls. "I'm not saying it'll be perfect, but maybe I cou—"

"You could?" Joss jerked like she might jump off of the coffee table, the biggest smile on her face. "Both dresses?" Chucky nodded and smiled broadly. "Oh Chucky! You're my hero!" and then she did jump off of the table, rushing over with ragged strips of tulle and organza flying behind her like kite streamers, and she threw her arms around Chucky.

"Aww, just consider it an earlier wedding present, Joss." Chucky bashfully smiled, returning Joss's hug with only one arm…likely due some confusion about what right here and what the blow back would be from Tig if Tig found out Chucky put his arms around Joss.

Joss straightened again, even Lauren on her feet now, both of them smiling in so much relief over at Chucky, who drank it all in like a little ham…a Jewish ham. Joss laughed. "Well this is a much better present than a fondue set!" She giggled, for a moment imagining Tig with fondue…that could be…yeah, they really didn't need a fondue set! She turned to Chucky again. "Thank you! I can't say it enough!"

"Hey," he smiled back, full of sentiment this time. "I'd do anything for Tig and you. I'm really happy for both of you, and I'm glad the club has you too!"

Oh…Joss felt herself struck by Chucky's words, if he only understood the strength he'd just given her. Someone believed in Tig and in her and their ability to show this club what they were. And they could too! Joss may have had only two days left to do it all in, but now she felt more empowered than ever. Yeah, this wedding was happening, and the club would have a new prince and princess to look to when it was over.

The noise of an engine cutting off outside drew everyone's attention, making Joss immediately look at the clock. It was just after five…Tig was home, and she'd been so busy she hadn't time to make dinner for him. Not that he wouldn't understand, he would what with all the wedding planning…but making dinner for her man was one of the "wife" things she was supposed to do, and she hadn't. No sex and now no dinner…she may have been making it through planning a wedding for the club, but she still felt like she was failing Tig as a wife…that thing in the freezer…

The screen door in the kitchen creaked open as Tig came in from the garage. "Hey, baby," he called to her before he could even see her, going directly to the fridge, glass clinking together as he grabbed himself his usual beer. He didn't sound overly happy or pissed off about anything; he was just his usual self. Good, hopefully that meant that there were no more deserters.

"Missed you! Out here!" Joss hollered, but before she'd even finished she could hear Tig's heavy boots rounding the corner into the living room as he twisted the cap off of the bottle in his hand.

"Hey," Tig offered vaguely to everyone present and made his way over to Joss, but stood beside her in some strange and awkward manner, almost like he was considering kissing her in front of everyone, but he must have thought better of it. "How's it going?" He asked, looking away from her now and burying his ungainliness in conversation with Chucky and Lauren.

"It's getting there," Lauren nodded at him, seconded by both Chucky and Joss. "The bigger things are handled, at least."

"Yeah," Joss said, turning to Tig, her eyes bearing her apology. "I've been a little busy today, but we were just about finished." She explained, hinting at the ETA of his food.

"Okay," Tig shrugged, completely ignoring the fact that Joss was standing there in a shredded wedding dress. He and looked towards Lauren and Chucky. "Hey, thanks for helping her out. I mean that." He said to both of them, his words genuine though he never broke a smile…typical Tig.

Lauren wasn't rebuffed though, neither was Chucky, and she also knew when to make an exit. "It's out pleasure," she smiled at Tig, then Joss. "We'll be back tomorrow, "she said to Joss and reached out to give Chucky's shoulder a little shove.

"Yeah!" Chucky agreed, also sensing that Joss needed Tig to have her to himself now. "And I'll find a sewing machine!" He promised as Lauren gathered her purse and keys, walking to the front door with him, because she had been his ride.

Joss smiled again, feeling Tig's arm slip around her, an affectionate gesture that surprised her until she remembered what she'd said to him about "opening this up, just a little." He was trying, touching her in some way that was more than just grabbing her ass in public to let everyone know he was fucking her. No, this was him testing out how to "open it up" to others, to show them that he loved Joss…that kiss that had evaporated into nothing; it was likely the same thing, only he'd lost his nerve that time. But he'd gone for it this time, holding Joss tightly and proudly to him, getting to used to this, using Lauren and Chucky as his "practice" audience so he could get accustomed to displaying his sentiment for Joss around the club…if he ever had to. Joss knew not to acknowledge it though, not now, it was only "practice" after all, but it still made her smile a little more brightly. "Great! Thanks so much again, to both of you!" She beamed and laughed a little to Lauren, "Don't forget the razor! The Jabberwocky meets its defeat tomorrow!"

"Yeah," Lauren laughed back as she opened the door, Chucky in tow. "'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe; all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome graths outgrabe." She recited; both her and Joss laughing even harder now, at least until Tig pulled away from Joss, a look on his face like a dog having just heard a whistle pitched only to his ears. He looked first at Lauren then at Joss, then at Chucky and finally back at Joss.

What was up with him? It didn't seem to be anything major, but he he looked confused and even a little concerned too, like maybe he'd been stressing about this wedding too much. He nodded in Lauren's direction, but looked at everyone else. "Did we all just hear that, or just me?"


	55. Den Mother

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 55

Getting Tig's dinner was easy. Joss had peeled off the slashed and hacked Swan Lake dress and thrown on her usual oversized SAMCRO T-shirt and had Tig sitting at the dining room table with hot food in front of him within ten minutes. They hardly used their dining room, until recently…the kitchen just wasn't one of Joss's favorite places to be right now. Luckily cooking for Tig hadn't required her to be in there for very long. He was such an easy keeper in that aspect, perfectly happy with his beer, left over barbeque pulled pork that Joss had microwaved, some saltine crackers and a bottle of hot sauce. The conversation however, wasn't quite as convenient.

"I know you don't want to," Joss said, her voice full of sympathy, because she understood, she truly did, this was not Tig's thing, nor his strength. "But Gemma had something there with writing our own vows. I mean, who better to tell everyone about what you and I have than us ourselves?" He'd done some experimenting earlier tonight in the presence of Lauren and Chucky, putting his arm around Joss, and Joss did understand how hard that was for her man…so what she was asking of him now…well, she'd might as well take him back up onto the clubhouse roof and ask him to fly away with the pigeons and seagulls. But they had to do this; the club had to hear it.

Tig's screwed up face did all his whining for him, teeth grinding behind the flat line of his lips, mustache twitching as his clear, blue eyes burned like lasers at Joss. "No."

It was the third time in the course of this discussion that he'd said that and Joss would have questioned why she continued trying to convince him if it hadn't been for Tig failing to put the usual moratorium on the topic the way he always did when he didn't want to discuss it…at least, he hadn't done that yet. Hmm, why hadn't he done that? Joss looked at him good and hard, examining everything from his posture to his movements; his big shoulders were pushed out in a "don't mess with me" kind of stance that was actually normal for him, but he was still, not poised to strike or hovering on the edge of anything; nothing really communicated how much he wanted this conversation to be over. He hadn't even so much as raked the pulled pork together in a big lump on his plate and then stuck his fork in it, done. He wasn't writing vows…he'd said that a lot…but what did that really mean? "Okay," Joss said, more to herself than to Tig and she nodded once in some state of crucial comprehension. "What ideas do you have, then?"

Tig set his fork down as well as the half eaten cracker that was in his other hand. He looked at her like he was bracing for her to disagree with what he had to say. "It's not what you think we should do." He warned, but for the most part he was calm, not overly annoyed, just the usual.

"Obviously," Joss kind of smiled, smoothing things over, trying to tell him it was okay, go ahead and say it, she was open to whatever he wanted to do. She looked at him like he was the God that he was to her, brilliant blue eyes peering out from the miles, not the years, which showed on his face…her man, cool, dangerous, sexy, mysterious and strange…all over solid in ways that other men would never even understand. He was the man that loved her so damn much he was always going to be afraid of it. That's why he wouldn't write wedding vows; there was opening this up a little, and there was letting too much crazy out, and their love was crazy. Crazy was good though, Joss had never been so sure of that as she was now; crazy couldn't be stopped, crazy had no fear, crazy kept enemies at bay, made them afraid to even try to fight because there was no strategy against a foe with no boundaries. Tig…he likely needed some comfort right about now, and Joss knew how to give it. "What do you want to do, War Machine?"

She watched as her voice stroked softly over him like a loving hand and Tig pushed his chair away from the table, turning towards her. "C'mere." He ordered with a beckoning finger and Joss eagerly stepped forward, not surprised, but elated when Tig hooked her gently around her hip and pulled her down onto his knee, situating her around so they could look eye to eye. He was getting more used to touching her again and being touched by her, even though she knew that their closeness so often left things rearing and raging within him that could only be bedded down by one thing…that he still wouldn't take from her despite how much she insisted she'd be okay. But she would be, somehow, Joss knew she was ready, her body had healed; being with her man would only make her stronger, not weaker. She needed him…that thing in the freezer…no, if she started down that alien path then she wouldn't hear and understand what Tig was about to tell her.

She sighed a happy sigh, which wasn't difficult or even forced sitting here with him like she was, and placed her hand over the one Tig was resting against her thigh. "This is about the club, right?" He asked her, not reacting to the way Joss was slowly melting into him; he had something to say that she was going to hear. She nodded at him, following along word for important word. "Then anything we say, we say it to the club. This isn't going to be like the same shit we did before," he told her, the direct way he said it and the command in his voice revealing that Tig had a plan, that he knew what this wedding was going to be and what it was not going to be, and he wouldn't be swayed from it. "You just show up Saturday ready to climb on the back of the bike and roll with me, it'll all fall into place from there. Your half of this is dresses and flowers and making shit look good. My half is the club, Joss." He paused, his next words would be stern she could tell, but the way his hand rubbed her thigh tenderly let her know she'd done nothing wrong. "Yeah, you're the next queen, little girl, and you're going to be like nothing anyone has ever seen, I know you will be, but…the club is mine, not yours, mine! What has to be done for it will always be on me, not you."

Wow…Joss had of course known that, but somewhere in the rush and chaos of all these weddings, she'd maybe lost sight of that. She wanted what was best for the club, but in doing so, she began to see that she was over-nurturing, tying SAMCRO to her apron strings and trying to pack it some nutritious lunch of vows and words that were Tig's to make and say. But Tig didn't need her to do that, he knew his place and he knew the duty ahead of him, he'd do whatever he had to do for SAMCRO, Joss could communicate well within the club, but for Tig that language was his mother tongue, he knew what the club had to hear, and he knew how to tell them.

All of a sudden the reason for Tig's sour attitude at every wedding planning session around Gemma's dining room table became clear. Joss thought it was all about how he hated the style of wedding Gemma was planning for them that made Tig bulk and buck the way he did, and yes, there was a fair share of that in Tig's defiance, but even more so was that Tig wouldn't have anyone else interpreting what he knew he meant and what he felt, to his club. He'd be the kind of leader that would always be honest with his club, he'd tell them the truth, good or bad, and he'd be there with them throughout all of it. Wow…just when Joss thought she'd never underestimate her man again, she did. She'd been nodding like a bobble-head placed on the dashboard of a Jeep, but finally she got control of herself, refocusing on Tig's eyes that stared at her with torrential conviction. "Tig," her hand left its place over his so that she could press both her palms against his thrumming heart…so strong and in its own way, so pure. "I'm sorry, I owe you a lot more credit than what I—"

"Stop!" He demanded, not letting her finish and his arm loosed from around her, prompting her to stand up. He wasn't going to let her apologize, because there was nothing to apologize for; he didn't feel that she'd somehow fallen short, even if Joss did herself. But she'd just learned how not to do it again where Tig and his club were concerned. "You love me?" He asked her as her feet hit the floor, and he leaned casually on the table top now with one arm, wanting to bring a sweeter close to this than "stop!"

Joss smiled, she knew what questions like that meant…he'd told her she'd be a queen the likes of which was yet to be seen, he had so much faith in her. "I love you," she replied, wishing so hard that he'd pull her possessively close and grunt with desires he intended on fulfilling…she needed her man, "a little more each day." She bent down and kissed his mouth, her hands on his hard deltoids, but Tig steeled himself and wouldn't put what he usually did into the kiss, still abiding by the fear that he'd hurt her.

"Good," he almost whispered, catching the collar of her shirt and holding her close enough to kiss her again, but there was still nothing much in it, and all too soon, he'd let her go. "Now go eat something. I hate it when I think you don't eat." And he turned back to his pulled pork, twisting off the little cap on the bottle of hot sauce and shaking some more out over the meat he'd piled onto a cracker like his dinner had never been interrupted. "I got too many crackers here, get your olives and cheese and that…hoo-mush shit you like and come out here with me."

"It's hummus," Joss corrected with a laughing smile but started into the kitchen as Tig whined an annoyed "whatever, it looks like cat puke" behind her that Joss shook off with another laugh; Tig wanted her company, however he chose to say so. Him and his worries…he didn't like it when he thought she didn't eat…the goofball…he'd never be comfortable with her being vegetarian, but at least he wasn't trying to force feed her pulled pork…this time. But Joss was hungry; she'd been so caught up in the dress debacles all day that she hadn't had time to eat...hmm, maybe Tig was right to worry this time? That was okay, she was going to eat now, but hoo-mush wasn't going to cut it, she was beginning to realize how hungry she was the more into the kitchen she got. Hmm, she had broccoli and cheese whole grain Lean Pockets in the freezer! Yeah! Not only did that sound good, but it would look more substantial to Tig than her usual olives and hummus.

Without a thought Joss grabbed the freezer door handle, already thinking how she'd have to move the ice trays around because they were sitting on top of her Lean Pockets. She hadn't been cooking very much lately; the freezer reflected that, it was crowded with dinners she hadn't been able to make for Tig. Damn, she held two ice trays in one hand, and a pot roast in the other, trying to shift stuff around enough with the piece of meat so that she could set something down without it tumbling out onto the floor while she grabbed her dinner. Her bags of frozen vegetables squished easily into the corner, the packages of chicken wings and turkey legs flipped up on their sides, but there was still this one thing that wouldn't budge, something in a rounded, plastic container…a hand…a tiny little, bony, blood red hand with five icy, needle like fingers reached for her through its swaddle of gauze.

Chapter 55; Part 2

"Fuck!" Tig grit out and was on his feet and racing to the kitchen before Joss could slam the freezer door shut as she screamed, then turned her back to it, looking like she wanted to run, but her legs wobbled under her and she slid down the refrigerator door to the floor amidst the bag of peas, package of chicken wings, pot roast, ice trays…and the container that had thrown everything to the floor. Joss trembled on the yellow vinyl tiles, tucked up against the fridge, her legs pulled up close to her body, her arms around them in further defense, her face buried against her knees, but she couldn't make herself not see that container. Jesus fucking Christ, what was he thinking making her have to come in here alone? The first time since she'd come home from the hospital that Tig didn't go with her into the kitchen, thinking he could protect her enough from ten feet away at the dining room table, and everything turned into a horror show!

He rushed to Joss's side, but had presence of mind enough, and instinct too, to quickly but gently scoop his boy up off the floor, returning him to the freezer before dropping to one knee beside his frantic mother. Joss hadn't seemed to notice, just kept her head down, shaking and crying, frozen food and ice cubes all around her on the floor, but Tig did what he could to pull her away from it all by taking her in his arms, pressing her head to his chest, holding her tightly and hoping she could hear and feel the beat of his heart and focus on that for awhile. "It's alright, baby," he told her in a low, soft voice, not doing anything other than trying to hold her right now, she had to feel safe before she'd be able to talk about it. Yeah, like she was ever going to be able to talk about this…

She shuddered and drew shaky, sputtering breaths against him, clinging to him with every part she could wrap around him, her tears soaking through the long sleeved, black T-shirt he wore, but Tig held her closer still. He had to get his boy in the ground somewhere, soon. He should have done it before now, but he just wasn't able to. He did not want to have another kid, he definitely didn't…but somehow, knowing his boy was there in the freezer, in the house with him, gave Tig some strange hope that it would allow them to get to know one another better. It was a ridiculous wish to have given that his boy hadn't even been born, that his brain hadn't been formed beyond controlling involuntary organ functions, but Tig had still wanted his boy to know that his father knew he was here, that his father understood that he was a prince more deserving of being burned to ash with a bunch of medical waste. His boy…his prince…there was more to it than wanting to show his boy respect and fondness and Tig knew it, though he hadn't let himself think it until now with Joss sobbing and shaking in his arms. He wanted her to acknowledge their son, he wanted her to know what this meant, that something had happened, that they, and SAMCRO had lost a prince…that was why Tig couldn't let go of his boy…he didn't want to be the only one who would remember him.

Tig took a deep breath, or at least he tried to, cutting it short when he suddenly discerned his shaking from Joss's. He couldn't be strong for her if he was falling apart himself, and besides, this girl had been fucked up way too much to understand any of this the way he was still able to. But he wanted her to…damn it all to hell, he did! There'd been something missing between them since she'd come home from the hospital, something he'd assumed was sex…but it wasn't…not wholly. Joss had noticed that disconnect too, Tig knew she had, she'd been trying like hell to fix it, more than just offering her body to him, begging him to put an end to the divide between them by making her scream his name…but that wasn't the fix they needed. Joss had to realize they'd created a son, a prince…she had to stand beside Tig and put their boy in the ground…she had to mourn.

"Shhh," he whispered to Joss, shoving all those yearnings away before he started trying to express them to her. She wouldn't understand, but it wasn't her fault. Her asshole father…Tig's muscles leapt to fight response, his eyes narrowing until he couldn't see through them, but visions of little Joss, scared and alone, footsteps she'd grown so used to creeping up the stairs to her room, her small body crushed into the mattress of her twin bed, trying not to feel anything, digging herself deeper and deeper into the corners of her sanity, looking for a safe place to play…crosshairs square between little shoulder blades…it was too late to save that kid…but for the first time in his life, Tig was going to try!

Author's Note: Trying to make up for not having a chapter to post on Monday! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! You guys rock!


	56. Color, Cut and Clarity

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 56

Tig couldn't help the revolving carousel of women that was spinning through his mind right now…well, maybe not women, more like parts of women…tits here, legs there, the occasional ornate little shape shaved into their bush…but none of them were helping him determine if he had or had not banged the sales lady currently assisting him at "Kassey's Crystals." She had hazel eyes, long, black, curly hair, with skin that wasn't quite tan and not quite mocha; Tig would have assumed she was Latina if not for her very obviously Australian accent…maybe New Zealand…whatever, she musta been from the South Pacific somewhere…hmm…had he nailed any chicks like that? Looking at her now, yeah, he'd of hit that…in a major way…go up to her, say "hey," get her a beer, then slip'er the crip'ler…damn it…why was he thinking about this? Well, okay it wasn't so strange that he would be thinking about this…it was strange that he was…thinking about thinking about this, cognitively aware of the fact that he was standing here, looking at how this bitch took care of herself, how she obviously put in time at the gym to keep herself built like a burlap sack full of Tasmanian Devils, and all the while wondering if he'd seen her naked, instead of just letting the thoughts happen and not even realize they were in his head. Fuck, now he was confused, what was he doing? Thinking about what he was thinking…shit…that likely didn't end well. A burlap sack full of Tasmanian Devils? What the fuck?

The sales lady laid another black, velvet ring display on the top of the glass counter, still smiling at him, still so laid back and free spirited as she began telling him about how the silver was oxidized, and Tig watched her mouth, trying to imagine if it was ever wrapped around his big…fuck! He was doing it again…he was thinking this shit and knew he was doing it…God damn it! Why was this happening? He was looking for a piece of jewelry, not a piece of ass! Where the hell was Hap when Tig needed him? He was the best man character this time around! Oh yeah, he was down the other end of the counter, flirt-talking with the other sales lady, a short, dark eyed, dark haired, curvy, Italian looking woman about five, maybe ten years younger than Hap was…and she had a nice rack! But Tig was pretty certain he'd never banged her…if anyone had, Hap had; it was easy to see that he had a long long long history with that woman. Tig had never heard any woman call Hap by his given name of "Vladimiro" before…but this one did, and Hap didn't seem to mind. Hmm…was having a daughter getting to ol' Vlad already? Tig's curiosity grew and he couldn't help but keep half an ear and eye on Hap's lean, chiseled form as he practically lay across the counter, pretending to be a much nicer guy than he was. But na, Hap wasn't here to tap that…although Tig could tell he had before…a lot…but now, Hap was just catching up, talking about his baby girl, and smiling crookedly…baby…shit…Tig felt something twist sharply inside him…how was Joss doing? It had been a rough night last night, but she had a lot of wedding things to distract her today and that was good, but tomorrow was going to be a big day…a really big day.

He was here to buy an engagement/wedding for Joss, and the normal kinda shit that every other bitch had was definitely not going to do. He'd never come in this place before…maybe because on some level it was because he remembered that this sales lady worked here, and he had banged her, and it didn't end well? Oh hell…this sales lady, whether Tig had boned her or not, was being really nice, answering all his questions, was so tuned into what he was saying he wanted and seemed so delighted to be helping him…yeah, she was being nice, and that' s what made Tig start to wonder if he'd hit that back then, watching the old tapes of pornos he'd co-starred in as they flickered on the silver screen behind his eyes, but there weren't any open casting calls for new productions…just the revival of the classics…and it felt…shameful.

"But if your lookin' for the ring to stay black, then the oxidized silver idea may go down the gurgler," the sales lady was saying, and Tig had no idea what that meant, but it finally distracted him a little from what he was thinking about his thoughts; he didn't know what a "gurgler" was, but he was pretty sure he didn't want Joss's ring going down one…a gurgler sounded like it might be…smelly. Whatever, he watched the sales lady, whom he may have banged and thought she was Latina while he did it, as she flipped that long, black, curly hair over her shoulder and then bent down to grab another tray of rings onto the counter top. It was full of black rings, just like he'd said he'd wanted, for real, straight up black metal, with various stones set in it. The oxidized silver had only been kind of black, it just looked sort of…dirty, but this, yeah, this full on black metal was more what he'd been thinking. Tig smiled, these rings looked badass; they were dark and heavy and had some menace to them. These black as black rings looked MC, they said, "Yeah, I married her; fuck off!"

The sales lady could tell he was pleased and her smile grew impossibly wider. "This is black titanium, guaranteed to stay black and not turn your sheila's skin green!"

Tig nodded, his eyes already stopping on one particular ring, "that's good," he said as he looked even more at the ring, "she's already got green eyes, she don't need green skin too." What? Whatever, he waved off whatever the hell that might have meant and pointed to the ring that had caught his attention. "I like that one."

Again the sales lady smiled, plucking the ring from the black velvet and sliding it half way onto her finger, modeling it for him. "A real beaut, isn't it?" She said, congratulating him on his choice. "Six millimeter black titanium band, oval cut lab created ruby in a tension setting, with two cubic zirconia bezels; quite striking!"

"Yeah," Tig's smile grew…striking…black and red…just like Joss's hair. She'd love this ring! It was way better than those dork-ass slippers he'd gotten her in the hospital! Gemma had told Tig he had to get Joss a ring, and that was one of the reasons he just never got around to doing so…because Gemma had "told him" he "had" to do it…fuck that, he had mad respect for Gemma and all, but SAMCRO was his club one day, and Joss was his property, and no one was going to tell Tig what he "had" to do for either one. Besides, Gemma had been expecting a ring along the lines of the huge chunk of ice she had clunking around on her finger, but Joss wasn't for that, that damn girl couldn't have been any less impressed with diamonds and gold than she already was. Joss had even told Tig that if he got her ring, get something that just looked real, said the fake shit was prettier than real shit anyway. Okay, maybe this was a real ruby, but it was "lab created," it didn't get dug up out of a hole in the ground, and the two stones on the side weren't real, and the band wasn't gold…this ring should make Joss happy all the way around, right? Damn…the urge to show this ring to Ope and get his opinion suddenly jumped up out of nowhere…Ope had been right about the dress Joss wanted to get married in, he did seem to have a definite line out for what Joss liked and how she reacted to something when she did. Jesus…if Ope left this club—no, Tig wasn't going to stand here and think about this shit, not now anyway, he had Happy, his best man, and God damn it, he was going to use him!

Hap was still preoccupied by that girl, both of them so far down memory lane that Tig was afraid he may not be able to call Hap back again. The short, buxom brunette had both her hands on Hap's biceps, scrutinizing a new tattoo, then smiling and running her fingers over the lump of hard muscle there like she was trying to charm "Vladimiro" out of his Happy pants…fuck, for some reason, watching that was starting to piss Tig off…Tig hadn't fucked anything in…in…days, and he wasn't letting Miss-Mighta-Banged-Her rub up on him! Miss Mighta Banged Her? Vladimiro Happy Pants? Who the fuck were these people? Shit…"Hap!" Tig hollered, his tone not just meant to get Hap's attention but also to startle him away from that little, Italian bella donna he'd been kitten-ing up to since he and her laid eyes on each other.

"What?" Hap jerked to attention, his hand automatically going for his knife, expecting that there was trouble due to how Tig had called to him, but after a brief look around, he determined there wasn't any. Hap glanced back at the chick he'd been all about and then looked at Tig with a dry smile. "Hey bro, this is DeDe," he said and pointed to the other sales lady, who smiled and waved to Tig, feigning bashfulness…no woman who looked like her was really bashful. Hap laughed, "Met her when she was sixteen, gave her a ring when she was seventeen, married her when she was eighteen," Hap paused, Tig trying to keep up with everything Hap had said, trying to process it all…whoa…Hap was married? No shit! Hap never mentioned a wife before, but then, Hap sorta didn't mention a lot of things…he was much more about actions, not words, and that's why he and Tig had always gotten along so well…but shit, Hap was married? There was a Mrs. Vladimiro Happy Pants? What? No, stop doing that, God damn it! Hap had a wife…holy fuck…wait until Tig told Joss about this, and then told her to shut her damn mouth about it…Hap had a chain to go along with those balls…but then Hap laughed again, looked back at DeDe and gave her one of those "you little rascal" looks. "She wised up three years later and left me on her twenty-first birthday."

DeDe looked at Tig, her brown eyes laughing even before she spoke. "I didn't need him to buy me beer and take me to parties anymore then." She kind of snorted and then she and Hap laughed together…this split seemed to be amicable…at least, it was now, who knew about "then."

Tig nodded, not sure what to say, this was too fucking weird, even for him; Hap had been married…he wasn't supposed to have been married! He wasn't supposed to have hooked up with and gotten serious about Slinky Slinky Bitch either, and then go and have a kid with her, but he had…so, well…shit happened, that was pretty clear. The kid…Joss…that damn girl was amazing and Tig loved the hell out of her…but was she strong enough to get through tomorrow? Shit…there were some things that he just couldn't be there for her through, she'd have to find her own way…and he fucking hated that…he really did. Tig tried to go numb; he tried to stop thinking about what might break in Joss when…Jesus, what if it brought the spider monkey? What then? He'd be on his own then, no Opie to be there as back up this time…no Ope…damn it, no, stop thinking about this shit…just stop…there was a voice, someone was saying something to him…Hap was asking him something…oh yeah…he was buying Joss's ring…

"So is it cool if DeDe comes tomorrow?" Hap still leaned, all gangsta, against the glass case, indicating his ex-wife with a sideways nod of his head.

Tig felt his feet on the floor again, shifted gears within himself, focused on Hap, and DeDe…and Slinky Slinky Bitch. "Why not," he said and gave Hap a smartass grin. "My wedding can be your funeral if you want it that way." Funeral…no, don't even…just…don't! He wasn't sure what Hap's or the former Mrs. Hap's reaction was, Tig just made himself move on…without Ope. "Hey, c'mere and tell me what you think a this ring."

Chapter 56; Part 2

There wasn't much difference between getting rid of something, and saying "goodbye" to it, was there? Either way it was gone and that's all Joss wanted. But they were different things…they had different feelings attached to them both, and that put Joss and Tig on different sides of this…this. Wow, how ironic; she married Tig tomorrow before the entire club, to show them how strong they were as a couple and here they were, as separated as they ever had been before.

"Joss!" Lauren jolted Joss back to the here and now with the sound of her own name, and Joss felt herself shake once or twice, having to search the clubhouse for Lauren. But there she was, only a few feet away, standing on the ladder that Chucky was holding as best he could with two fingers, "Silver streamers, ASAP!"

Oh yeah, that's what was taking up space in her hand…she'd gone over to the bag of decorations to get more streamers; they were making alternating loops of white, black and silver crepe paper that cascaded down from the ceiling. "Sorry," Joss quickly answered and tore open the paper bag with her teeth, spitting out the bits of plastic that stuck to her red lips and handed Lauren the roll of silver crepe. "I've got so much on my mind."

"Naturally," replied Lauren as she tore off another strip of tape and attached it to the end of the silver streamer. "But are you sure that's all it is? You seem kinda…"

"Worried," Chucky supplied when Lauren failed to come up with a more tactful word, so eager to help that he almost sounded hopeful that he could. "You okay? Need to talk about it? We're here!"

"Chucky, really, slow down," Lauren warned him, then looked at Joss like "worried" wasn't the word she'd been thinking, even though Joss knew it was. "But yeah, we're here, just like he exuberantly suggested."

Joss forced the gray look on her face into something like a smile. Talk…yeah, like there was anyone to talk to about this. "Thanks," she said to both Lauren and Chucky. "But I'm fine, it's just…you know…I'm feeling the crunch, we're down to just a few hours essentially…hoping everything is in its right place." Yeah…or that "it" got put there soon…which wouldn't be soon enough!

Lauren nodded, then she smiled a little down at Joss, even though Joss could tell that her friend suspected it was something a little more involved than just that, but she was too good a friend to try sniffing it out here and now…the way Gemma would have. "Why don't you take a break? It's past lunch time, we're all hungry, so go out for a little drive, pick up some food, and get away from this for a half hour or so." She glanced down at Chucky, making sure he was on board and not about to launch into two-fingered-Doctor Phil mode again. "We can handle things here, right?" She asked him, indicating to him that it was not okay to say "no."

But Chucky was nodding emphatically. "Oh yeah," he said to Joss. "We'll turn this place into Notre Dame while you're gone! You just get out of here, let your maid of honor and your…your…well, okay I don't know what I am, but Lauren and me, we'll take care of it!" He promised with a big, trustworthy grin that actually did make Joss smile.

Yeah, it might be good to step away from this for a little while…even though Joss knew she couldn't get too far away from it no matter how hard she tried. But Chucky was motioning to her with his hand, shooing her away with an index finger and a thumb and as pathetic as it was, Joss couldn't help but laugh. He wanted to be "something" in this wedding, and really, he deserved status of some sort, he'd taken care of the dress situation, both she and Lauren were all set wardrobe wise, give or take an uneven inch on either side of Joss's hemline, but who was going to notice? For a tailor who'd been reduced to pinchers for hands, Chucky had kicked some bridal gown ass! Joss smiled at Chucky, who knew the funky, little guy she'd met at the garage that day Tig had captured her away from Gemma's keep would end up saving her happily wedded ass like he had? Well, almost "happily"…that thing in the freezer…yeah, Joss needed some time to herself, but first, "Chucky, if we had programs for this wedding, you'd be listed in there as 'dress wrangler,'" Joss laughed, Lauren and Chucky too. "But since we don't…and I know it's short notice, but I'd really like you to be my man of honor, and stand next to Lauren tomorrow."

"Really?" Chucky looked sincerely surprised, looking up at Lauren to be sure he wasn't stepping on her feet before he accepted, but she just smiled and nodded back at him. He looked at Joss, already nodding. "Yes! Wow, I've never been in a wedding before! This is big…thanks Joss!" The smile was plastered to his face, and that was good to see, Chucky deserved that. "Oh, I gotta call my mom; she's going to love this!" He added then his eyes got big, some new excitement hitting him. "I even have a tux! With tails!"

The thought of Chucky standing there in a tuxedo, with tails, amongst all the bikers in the world made them all laugh, and it felt so good to be able to. Hopefully that and a some time to herself would make things better, but Joss wasn't sure. She walked out of the clubhouse, heading for her truck, but all the space in the lot only made her think about how many bikes would be jammed into it tomorrow…and she had no idea anymore what tomorrow was going to be like. Tig was doing what was right, she knew he was, but…why did she have to be there? This was a tragically new situation; for the first time since Joss had known Tig, she couldn't understand what it was that made him feel the way he did.

Lunch…yeah, lunch was much easier to think about. Joss walked to her truck, her fingers on the door handle when she glanced over towards the garage…Tig, maybe he was back from wherever he and Happy had gone, and maybe he was hungry too? He wasn't angry with her, wasn't treating her like she'd done something against him or even disappointed him, but still, Joss felt like she had a lot to make up to him, and maybe bringing him some lunch would help in some small way. She let go of the door handle and walked off towards the clubhouse, trying to see if Tig's bike was there, but it was difficult to tell from where she was, and so she kept walking. She didn't want to get too close to the garage though, Gemma could be there, and she didn't want to see her, not right now. The queen had likely received her invitation by now and Gemma potentially being all gloating and "I told you so" after the wedding was one thing, but before the wedding, and everything else Joss had hanging over her, no; Joss wasn't in the mood to hear it.

What Joss did hear though were heavy footsteps coming up on her left, someone coming around from where old tires were stored for recycling pick up at the back of the garage. She was about twenty feet away from the office now, had a clear view of all the bikes and Tig's wasn't there. Oh well, she'd tried; she pivoted around to go back to her truck and came nearly face to face with Ope, his hands and forearms shadowed by smudges of grease and rubber. There was a time when such an encounter would have sent her reeling in so many ways, but now all she did was sigh a little and said "hello." Ope was slow to respond, like he had a lot on his mind as well, and yeah, she guessed he did, what with pulling out of SAMCRO and all. Ope…for such a big guy he'd looked more like Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders…and Tig was sharing that burden. It wasn't fair…none of this was…to anyone.

Ope lingered there, helpless as ever, but this time he couldn't find words either, not even sure if he should say anything other than the weak greeting he'd come up with. That was odd, usually Joss could tell that he was holding back on stuff he wanted to tell her, things he was dying to make her know. He sighed again and cast a glance in the direction of the clubhouse. "How's it going?"

"Great," Joss answered, but it didn't come out that way, not even a little. She slouched and shook her head, arms close to her body, her hands holding her head up like she couldn't bear the weight of her thoughts anymore…and really, she couldn't.

She saw the slight flick of Ope's brows that told her he recognized whatever distress she was in and he wanted to come charging to her rescue, but he didn't…and it was odd…Tig wasn't here, Ope had to know that…but he didn't so much as offer an encouraging word. "Good." He said like it really didn't matter to him after all…but why should it? Love her or not, he was leaving.

Tig…her man needed a guy like Ope…what would happen without Ope being here to be that guy? And then something shot through her beleaguered brain like a signal flare, and Joss stood a little straighter, looking up at Ope with more color in her voice. "Hey," she said and paused, measuring the weight of each word she was going to say next. "You free for lunch?"

Author's Note: A special thanks to "Lauren," "Miss Mighta Banged Her" and "DeDe" for playing along! You know who you are!;-) Thanks to the rest of you for reading! Dying to know what your thoughts are!:-)


	57. Legal Tender

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 57

"I turn eighteen tomorrow," she says it like maybe it just occurred to her as she climbs her way up onto the granite stone wall to the left of the parking lot we're standing in. I guess she could have forgotten about that what with weddings and miscarriages and more weddings going on in her life, but still, I can't help but wonder why she's saying this…to me of all people. Joss isn't herself, she's detached from…well, from herself. I can't explain it, but I know what it looks like…round, empty green eyes that look without seeing, shiny, sleek black hair tucked into a haphazard, messy bun to just get it out of her way, one black sneaker untied, rhinestone appliqués dangling out of the skull with a rose in its teeth motif on the shoulder of the old, over-washed charcoal hoodie she's wearing. She didn't do her usual make-up today, just the black liner around her eyes and red lipstick, but she's wearing her patch; as long as she's got that, she's got everything. She takes the jar of peanut butter she bought out of the bag and begins trying to twist it open, "I'm a legal adult…ready to take responsibility for my life…" she's saying the words, but she's not hearing them or believing them, they don't really matter anyway with that patch on her back, and I know she's okay with that, but I'm not. What she's not okay with is that she can't get her peanut butter open. "Damn it," she gripes and begins trying to break the vacuum seal by pounding on the bottom of the plastic jar, to no avail. "What the hell? Are they child-proofing peanut butter now?"

Before I realize it, I reach out and take the jar from her, twisting it open easily…why I'd do that? Why'd I even go to lunch with her? Where did I think any of this was going to go? None of these things makes any sense anymore and I know it, she'll never be with me, I've never been more accepting of that. I hand her peanut butter back to her, placing the lid in one of her hands and the open jar in the other and Joss looks up at me and smiles, but it's not out of gratitude, it's more like she'd been trying to feel me out and now she knew something about me that I was yet to realize. I don't like this, I feel myself stiffen up and the same caution comes over me that is there when I'm riding alone through rival turf. "You sure this is a good idea?" I used to think that if Joss ever asked me to go anywhere with her or do anything with her that I'd be saying a lot of things, but none of them would have been that. She'd asked me if I was free for lunch, looked right at me and asked…I wasn't prepared for that, not even a little…I'm still not. We didn't really go anywhere though; well, we did, but we only walked across the street to the "Bag It Up" and grabbed the usual convenience store fare. At least I did, Joss always has been a healthy eater, I know that about her too; it was another of Tig's complaints about his old lady at the garage, drawn out in that annoying nasal tone of his that grates on my nerves like nothing else when he's devaluing his old lady.

Joss pulls the head of lettuce she bought out of the bag next...well, that I bought the lettuce for her, and the peanut butter…which I know is wrong, but it wasn't like she tried to stop me. Why? She's usually so letter perfect as Tig's property that it makes me feel nauseated to be around it. But she gives me no clues as she starts to open the plastic wrap, peeling off the bruised outer lettuce leaves and she shakes her head a little at me, her legs dangling over the retaining wall almost like she's a puppet that someone is working from the other side of it. Hmm…she's here for Tig, why didn't I see it before? Getting me to open the peanut butter, letting me buy her food…that was all a test, her trying to see how much power she still had over me, how well would I listen if she tried to sway me over to something that sounded like her idea, when it was really her old man's. Shit…what had Tig told her? Did she know what my supposed role was where she and Tig were concerned? Was that the bad thing that kept looping around in her thoughts? She couldn't hide that something was…was scaring her, not from me. Despite my better judgment, I'd like to find out what's bothering her, I'd like to help her…help her…yeah, according to Tig, there's only one way to help her…she's not normal…God damn it, why did she have ask me if I was free for lunch now? She had plenty of time to do it before that night in the hospital chapel, and before Jax's offer of freedom…but no, I'm with her now, alone with her, no Tig in sight…I've dreamed of this…but in those dreams I'm never down to two life choices that both pulled my heart out of my chest, one with claws and the other with teeth.

Joss smears her peanut butter onto a lettuce leaf with the plastic knife she grabbed inside the store, then rolls up the leaf and takes a bite…I feel myself making a face, how can that be good? Maybe this is what Tig's always complaining about? She sighs mid chew, brushing unruly strands of her black hair behind her ear. "I don't know what's a good idea anymore, I haven't been making the best decisions lately, Ope." She says, like she's been dying to confess that to someone.

"Obviously," I kind of smile at her and glance at her peanut butter and lettuce concoction, hoping to maybe lighten this mood some, both to throw her off whatever game she's playing and also because…shit…because in my dreams, she and I are happy, there's no tension between us, she's not afraid of anything and I'm sitting on that wall with my arm around her and her head on my shoulder…part of me wants that, it wants it so badly. But I don't know why I bother. There's no light where Joss is concerned, none; there's only outrunning the darkness.

"Hey, haven't you ever eaten celery and peanut butter?" Her tone becomes playfully defensive and it surprises me so much that all I can do is stand there and nod my head. "Well, then why is lettuce and peanut butter so strange?"

"Good point," I agree, but I'm hoping she doesn't offer me any to further prove it. I turn my back to the retaining wall and then push myself up onto it beside her, judging the angle one more time from where we are to the road and to the garage, but I'm still relatively satisfied that unless Tig came driving up from the opposite direction I'd seen him and Happy leaving, Joss and I wouldn't be in his line of vision. She doesn't have permission to even be talking to me right now, let along hanging out having lunch. Lunch…I've got a bottle of iced tea and a bag of barbeque pork rinds…this isn't lunch…again…first Jax, now Joss…I gotta just stick to breakfast and dinner for awhile, there's a lot less heartache at those two. But right now, I'm not the only one feeling heartache. I shouldn't ask her about it, I definitely shouldn't, but…"You okay?"

There's not as much peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth as she wants me to believe there is, she's just stalling. But you know a woman truly is beautiful when you find yourself thinking about what an elegant neck she has as she's got her head tilted awkwardly back with her tongue lapping away like a dog's inside her closed mouth, trying to unglue the lettuce spackled to her hard palate by peanut butter. She must have come up with an answer, because she straightens herself out again, takes a quick drink of her anti-oxidant, blueberry whatever and then looks at me, turning this conversation into a game of tic-tac-toe. "Are you?"

I find myself wishing I could shove some of her peanut butter into my mouth so I have a reason to not answer until I can come up with my own strategy too. Shit…I can't lie to her, I never have, granted that we haven't had very many conversations, but still; maybe if I'm honest, she'll be honest too? "No."

Her green eyes disappear beneath the thick, black lines of her make-up as she looks down and sighs. "Me either," she says slowly, quietly; then her dark lashes suddenly flick up at me again. "And I shouldn't have told you that."

"Why did you?" She's right, she shouldn't have been telling me things like that, as inconsequential as it seemed. If word got out, it would look like she was seeking help and comfort outside of her old man, who was supposed to be providing her with everything…if anyone found out what Joss had said to me, it would make Tig look pretty bad. So, what would make her risk that? I was starting to get more than a little worried. I hadn't seen her since she showed up from out of nowhere at the garage and announced to Tig that they had to get married again, I remembered how stunned and worried I was, she shouldn't have been out of bed, was she okay? Was she bleeding again? Was she going to pass out like I'd seen her do before? But now here she was, munching on peanut butter blanketed lettuce, married to Tig but confiding things in me that she should have kept to herself.

She bites her lower lip a moment, like spurring herself onward with the pain and then she looks up at me again, "because I don't want you to leave the club."

"Where did you come up with that?" I don't know why I even try to act like it's some rumor I haven't heard myself, Joss can see right through me, it doesn't matter how much I try to laugh at what an absurd statement I wish it was that she'd just made. God damn Tig…he prides himself in not talking club business to his old lady, keeping her in the dark, but he tells her that? Fuck!

"Ope, don't!" Joss rolls her eyes but her voice is firm. "I know I'm not…anything yet, and I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries," she pauses, a lettuce leaf in one hand and plastic knife in the other and she quickly sets them down, realizing that she's already violated a lot of things and she sighs, shrugging her shoulders, "well, anymore boundaries…but I couldn't live the rest of my life, no matter what I am to SAMCRO, without having said that to you."

She's eighteen tomorrow, but right now she looks about five or six, imploring me not to go, working on the weak points she already knows I have, but I won't give in, I won't. "Is that what Tig told you to say?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Ope," She grits out, her brow furrowing and she slams a slender, white fist into the mulch behind us. I didn't expect to see so much honest frustration and anger shining in her eyes. "Give me a little credit for doing something on my own, even though Tig does have the right to beat the shit out of me because I did. I'm a day away from legal adulthood, and I wish that for just a few seconds you'd be able to talk to me like that fucking mattered!"

Wow, that was a recognition I never thought she'd want from anyone. She was Tig's, that was how she defined herself, she belonged to Tig…and here she was, acting independently of him? Thinking outside of him? I was awestruck, but I didn't want her to know that, she'd already won enough times today. "Okay, but you have to admit that it's not like I'm wrong in assuming Tig packed you up in some little hand-basket and whisked off to hell. You never seemed to mind before."

"Fine," again Joss rolls her eyes and puts her hands firmly down on the ledge she's sitting on, ready to vault herself forward off of the wall. "Be that way; Jax isn't hanging around much these days, so stand in with that attitude and do him proud!"

"Hey!" I heard myself nearly growl, and my hand's on her forearm, holding, grabbing, squeezing tightly; not letting her jump down off the wall and go storming away. What the hell am I doing? Really! I shouldn't be yelling at her, I shouldn't be touching her…not for any reason. She's angry, she's glaring at me, just as pissed that I'm touching her, that I'm stopping her, as she should be, but it's not coming through to me, I'm not feeling it…or am I feeling it wrong? Joss isn't just angry with me, she's disappointed too…damn it…the first time she tries to really talk to me, and I do pull a "big brother" Jax on her. Shit, now I'm mad too, but not at her…well, I am a little, for reading me so damn well, for somehow knowing exactly when comparing me to Jax was the thing that would break me down…she knows she's got me now, I can see it through the ire in her sparkling green eyes, she knows…she knows. My filter's off, I'm going to say something ill-advised; I can feel it burning at the back of my throat. I jump down off the wall and stand in front of her, blocking her exit; we're almost equal in height, eye to eye and head to head. My own is spinning, I've kissed her before…it was a stupid thing to do then, but it's all I can think about now; my palms are sweating, my shoulders and chest are heaving with every breath, but Joss isn't looking away and neither am I. "Why do you care if I leave or if I stay? What do I mean to you?" Fuck…I really shouldn't have said that…

I saw her swallow and could practically feel how dry her mouth was as she did, but I didn't expect the tears that exploded over her cheeks from out of nowhere. "I need you!"

The words broke like a wave crashing against jagged rocks, her eyes red, crying harder now and I'm nearly swept away by the tide. She needed me? She needed me? I want to be hopeful, I want that to mean the everything I knew it somehow didn't, but either way, it was hard to stand here, looking tough, and watch her fall apart like this without doing…something…but I don't…she's of legal age, she wants to make her own decisions, she wants to handle things herself.

She wipes angrily at her eyes, trying to stop her own tears, but she can't and gives up the fight, looking at me again, making room for words between her sobs. "You're all I've got to give to Tig," she quivers, coughing on her tears, I have no idea what she's talking about; what the hell did that mean? Was she about to lose it on me? Was I about to be face to face with the…what did Tig call it, the "spider monkey?" Should I run? Should I look for a big enough, strong enough stick to wedge between those jaws before they started snapping at me? And then it was too late to do anything; Joss's hands flew to my shoulders, her fingernails twisting hard into my garage shirt, holding onto me with a trembling grip, but she seemed to quiet down some…no demon bursting forth.

"I've messed everything up, Ope. All I can give Tig is one dead boy that he's been keeping in the freezer, like he's waiting for it to come back to life. But it's not going to, and I can't even feel what he wants me to feel for it. I've never been so useless to him." I saw her stomach muscles whimper against the charcoal cloth covering them like she was about to cave in physically and a few more tears rushed down her pretty face. Jesus…Tig was…he was keeping what in the freezer? "He says he doesn't want kids, and he doesn't, I know he doesn't," Joss was pushing through the hell she'd been living with, opening up about it to me before I could even digest it all. "But he wants an heir, Ope. And I can't give him that, not the normal way…but he likes you, he thinks a lot of you…I know you don't believe it, I know it doesn't make any sense, and I know you probably don't even want to know it, but he does…" she paused a moment, her teeth chattering softly as she tried to collect herself, but the tears kept coming and coming, this was not contrivance, this was not part of whatever plan she may have had. This was her last ditch effort, coming to talk to me about something she knew her old man would never voice, and something that she had no one else to go to with.

"You're Tig's choice to succeed him, Ope. Somewhere in all that winds and crawls and slithers within him, he knows you are, and when he finally realizes it…" she sighed and turned her head sideways as she looked at me, her hands moving from my shoulders to cup my face, her breathing as hard as my own…she was touching me, her delicate hands so sweetly pressed against the roughness of my beard and somehow reaching deeper than that. Her face was still scarred with hurt and sadness and fear, but nothing could diminish the fiery combustion in my blood or the flicker of hope that was slowly emerging among the chaos in her stare. "Please be there," she pleaded, then shuddered again involuntarily and leaned closer to me…and then closer…and closer. Who could fault me for staring into her eyes? Who would blame me for trying to breathe in some taste of her lips? Her hands slid slowly back down to my shoulders, holding tightly, but not for long, making their way back behind my neck as she leaned even more towards me. I couldn't move, too paralyzed by my own desires, and suddenly she latched on, both her arms crossing at the base of my neck as she clung to me, her long, silky black hair teasing my chest, followed by her ear and then the sad warmth of the side of her face, and she hugged me, hugged me like I was all she had. My pulse raced, I know she could feel it, hell, for a moment I even I thought I felt myself hit the ground, but I was still on my feet with this girl…with Joss shaking against me, looking for stability, seeking shelter, needing me to wrap my arms around her the way I did…the way she knew I would…she knew. She was a little quieter now, but no less passionate about what she was trying to secure, her voice echoing against my heart as she spoke. "Please be there," she beseeched me again and took another deep breath, gathering all that she had left to say. "Please, Ope. Be there for me."

Christ…she didn't know what she was asking…if I stayed…God damn it! I gave in to everything fighting for more within me and hugged her even tighter to me, able to identify what soft, sweet parts of her body were against mine without having to look, and I let myself turn my head enough to press a kiss gently against her forehead, but Joss didn't protest, she was still too scared and just stayed there in my arms, waiting for me to make the world alright again. I closed my eyes, feeling everything, including her, more when I did. Shit…what the hell was I doing?


	58. In God We Trust

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 58

Jesus was intent upon removing the black plastic wheel off of the tripod of legs on the outdoor kettle grill. He was really into it, yanking and chewing at the bolts that held the wheel to the metal supports, scratching at the patio bricks around the wheel when nothing budged, completely ignoring the extra special treat of a raspberry Nutri-Grain bar Joss was sharing with his mother and two siblings. The raccoons usually got dry cat food and then animal crackers for dessert, with a big bowl of water to wash it all in, but Joss liked to give them something special now and then, to sit out here with them on the patio that she kept swearing she was going to fix up and make into a more hospitable spot, for both people and her woodland friends. It had been a day full of preparations and stress and fears about tomorrow, then lunch with Opie, followed by…by…shit, she didn't even know what that feeling was that followed "lunch"…but she knew she and Ope had…something. But what and how could they? No, this was just…just…well, there wasn't one word to sum up feeling over-exposed, having a big mouth, and doing things she never ever should have. Joss didn't even know if any of it had worked…Ope hadn't said he'd stay, he never even acted like he understood. He didn't do a damn thing but stand there and let her snuggle sinfully against his muscled chest…and that shouldn't have happened…that was in no way on the lunch menu, and it had given Joss some serious indigestion…hence why the raccoons were now enjoying the little pieces of her Nutri-Grain bar that she was breaking off for them and skittering across the bricks to them one by one…all except for the 'tire thief in training' over there at the old grill.

"Baby, come on," she cooed to the little bandit. "You're going to hurt your little fingers." Jesus…Tig had named him, in fact Tig had named all of the baby raccoons that their mama had appeared with after a long absence this past spring. Tig did have a soft spot in his heart for animals and the rackies, as Joss came to call them, were no exception, even if Tig did react to them with his usual annoyance and complaints…but that sure didn't stop him from excitedly alerting Joss whenever a raccoon showed up on the patio, waiting for food and company. Joss had befriended the adult female, she was the first to receive the rations of cat food and animal crackers, and gradually she'd come to tolerate, and dare Joss think so, even enjoy having Joss sit out here with her in the evenings, talking to her about things that raccoons couldn't possibly have understood…kind of like she was now…Opie…that thing in the freezer…she needed Ope to make it go away…the rackies by now had heard how that just had to be a good five or six times. But Joss didn't tell even them what happened, how she'd come to be in Opie's arms…what was that?

Luckily, no matter what Joss said, it never bothered Mama, whom Joss had begun to call "Mama" once the big female raccoon returned one late March evening with a litter of three little fur balls who just barely had black masks forming on their faces and faint black rings on their tails they were so young, and so…vulnerable. Yeah, Mama trusted this place and trusted Joss too if she'd brought her babies here when they were so young. Mama even trusted Tig's presence, but her babies, they were leery…ever since Jesus made his way into the house that one early morning.

A smile made its way forth despite Joss's confused conscience she was suffering under, she'd never forget that morning…Jesus…he was always getting into trouble. That's how he got his name; even as a little tiny guy he managed to be doing something or to have gotten into somewhere that made Tig exclaim things like, "Jesus! Don't chew on the fucking ground wires!" or "Jesus! How'd you get in the dryer vent?" Jesus' brother got named "Squiggy," something Tig had always called him as if the raccoon had some other given name that Tig could never remember or just couldn't be bothered to learn, but every time Tig saw him, he got all "I'm watching you, Squiggy" like Tig expected that Jesus' brother might be the next one to dash into the kitchen. Jesus and Squiggy had a more timid sister, and Tig called her "Spike," but Joss had no idea why, and that was some deliberate name choice that Tig had made too…a girl named Spike…okay, it did certainly sound very Tig…very Tig…naming babies…there was so much "dad" in Tig, something he still didn't realize and likely never would…that thing in the freezer wouldn't be in the freezer if there wasn't so much "dad" in Tig…but there was no "mom" in Joss…none. That was going to be pretty clear tomorrow…Joss was dreading tomorrow.

It would be so nice to have a smaller problem to solve right now, and so Joss focused on the half grown raccoon that was now wrapping his paws around the leg of the grill, looking at it like perhaps that was why he couldn't get that tire off. "Jesus," Joss called, trying to distract the little guy, who wasn't quite so little anymore, away from his futile attempts to make off with a plastic grill wheel. She held out a piece of cereal bar that was chock full of raspberry filling to him, saving the juiciest part for him since he was yet to have any. Mama and Squiggy were washing their last pieces in the big bowl of water Joss always gave them while Spike sat back on her little haunches, chewing away on her treat, turning it like a steering wheel in her little black, claw filled hands as she nibbled around the outside. Jesus' nose perked up and he sniffed towards Joss's fingers. "Come on," she encouraged him and slid the piece of cereal bar even further towards the tips of her fingers. "I can't believe you're going to turn down a Nutri-Grain bar, you're who always wrestles the wrappers out of the trashcan."

Jesus' nose lifted higher than his head now and he put his front feet down on the brick, following the scent and moving away from the grill, looking like someone had grabbed him by the snout and was pulling him along. Joss smiled but her thoughts still raced, she should never have gone to lunch with Ope, she should have just come home and hung out with the rackies…it would have likely the same effect on Ope's decision to leave if she did, and she never would have ended up in his arms. In his arms…oh God…no, she had to stop thinking about it that way, that suggested more had happened than it did…but Joss felt like she'd done something grievous…and it wouldn't have been so bad if she'd gotten a commitment from Ope that he'd stay with the club, that he'd be there to take the reins from Tig, that he wouldn't be the lynch pin pulled away and cause SAMCRO to crumble. But for all the sacrifices she'd made, for all the limbs she'd climbed out on, Joss had gained nothing…nothing but a soiled reputation for Tig if Ope opened his mouth about "lunch." But, Ope wouldn't do that, somehow, Joss knew that even though Ope hadn't made her any such promises. How did she know that? What had even given her ability to…to…collapse into the arms of another man like that? In his arms…no, stop…it wasn't like that, it wasn't some forbidden love that had overruled her senses and slammed her against Ope's chest, filling her with the want and hope of gaining more than offered by a mere embrace. None of those signs were there; she didn't want a repeat performance, she didn't sit here wondering if Ope was thinking about her right now too, she was not reliving what had happened and trying to remember precious details that had escaped her the first time. Ope had kissed her once, what seemed like such a long time ago now, and Joss remembered nothing about how it had felt or if he was rough or gentle, she only remembered the shock of it all. Even now her thoughts were full of guilt over what she'd done to Tig, over what problems she could have made for him…but the worst feeling was that she'd hurt him, that she'd let someone else dry her tears and quiet her sobs, that she'd been willing to let someone else make things okay. Tig…everything for Joss was Tig, and it always would be. She didn't love Ope, she didn't want Opie, not the way he wanted her…but there was still something between her and Ope…some kind of connection…but Joss didn't know what it was, or if it should be there.

Wide brown eyes at the end of her hand crashed through her torturous thoughts and Joss felt her smile return a bit. There was Jesus, the tip of his little black nose nearly on the piece of Nutri-Grain bar in her hand, his head over her fingers so closely that the white underside of his chin brushed the tips of her nails. He'd never gotten so close before, and he wasn't sure if this was okay, was poised to tear off into the woods if Joss made any sudden moves, but she didn't, she just smiled hopefully and held her breath, not wanting to scare the little guy in any way. For a few seconds they just watched each other, a raspberry cereal bar obscuring both their stares, but neither one moved as the other three rackies were busy with their own cereal bars. "It's okay, it's okay" Joss whispered again and again, hoping that Jesus could somehow understand her, "I won't hurt you, I won't let anyone hurt you…it's okay…"

And then the air tore across her fingertips, Jesus moving so fast that the only thing Joss saw was a sudden absence of cereal bar in her hand, and Jesus had scurried back over the grill, holding his prize and now realizing he wanted to take it to the water dish and wash it. But Joss was smiling, full on…wow…not even Mama, who'd she'd known the longest, would actually take food from her hand. "Awww, you're so brave!" She beamed at the little coon, "I'm so proud of you, baby!" The little guy was watching her still, more relaxed now, but he still looked like he couldn't believe he'd done that, just swiped something out of a human being's hand…that wasn't right…but it hadn't hurt him…

The creaking of the sliding glass door startled everyone, the rackies retreating a few feet at the sight of the "Hey guy" and Joss flinching herself as she turned around to see the scowl on Tig's face; he'd obviously been watching for a few minutes. Without a "hello" Tig stepped out, bellowing. "How many times I tell you not to feed them like that, God damn it?" He asked, giving Joss no time to welcome him home from his long day, it was after nine o'clock, and Tig had been handling his end of the wedding preparations and though Joss wasn't sure what to do when he did get home, it was nice to have him with her again…Tig wouldn't let anything hurt her…even if he was still yelling at her as he sat down beside her on the crumbling, brick, patio steps. "One of them bites you, by accident or not, and the health department's coming here, taking them all away and killing them to find out if they got rabies! You want that?"

"No, of course not," Joss replied, fear actually gripping her that something like that could happen to Mama, Spike, Squiggy and Jesus, but Tig was right, it could…it could…too much contact was a bad bad thing. Jesus sat there looking at Tig now, sloshing his Nutri-Grain Bar in the bowl of water so innocently, his sweet little face full of anticipation for the taste of raspberry…Joss had told him she wouldn't let anyone hurt him…yeah, and Tig was upholding that better than she was herself…nothing had been gained…nothing. "Okay, I'm sorry, I won't do it ever again, I promise!"

Tig was giving her a strange look, had paused his movements, the beer bottle in his hand frozen a few inches away from his mouth as he looked at her like she was out of her mind, like her reaction was so inappropriate…hmm…damn…Joss felt that guttural little burn in her throat like she'd just yelled something herself…had she? Yeah…oops…did Tig know she hadn't meant about feeding the raccoon? He raised his eyebrows at her in sarcastic surprise, "Rough day?" he asked as if he didn't need an answer then took a swig of his beer.

Joss sighed and shook her head, still pondering whether she should explain herself. Gemma had said she needed to have something besides Tig; maybe this was what she meant? But if this was it, then that meant the thing Joss had outside of Tig was Opie! No, the Opie thing was just Joss's latest way of screwing up, she never should have interceded the way she did, and she meant what she'd said to Tig, she wouldn't do it ever again! Hadn't they just had that discussion about Tig handling club matters because the club was his, not hers? Damn it…it didn't matter that Joss was just trying to help her man, she'd crossed the line…several lines…and that made it wrong…even if it didn't hurt her. She looked back at Tig, "I'm sorry, it's not you. I just want this all to be over," she said. "I just want to go back to our normal, fucked up life."

"One more day, baby, just one more day," Tig soothed, his arm going around her back and rubbing below her shoulders, the raccoon incident forgotten now, at least by him. "So, what's all the crazy for?" He asked with a shrug that indicated her past, unprovoked shout, then turned towards the raccoons, and reached his hand into the bag of animal crackers that was between himself and Joss, flipping a handful of them out to Mama, Squiggy and Spike while Jesus finished his cereal bar.

"Nothing that you and I haven't already been through last night," she answered, surprised when she didn't say anything about Ope. She should…it was her duty to do so…but…but…Joss sighed and leaned against Tig, her head on his broad shoulder. "I took my sutures out today," she said next, surprising herself again…well, not really…she knew why she'd done that, some part of her not giving up on sex being the fix for all of this, that if she could just get Tig to fuck her it would erase the need for the makeshift funeral tomorrow, hell, it might even erase whatever it was she was trying to understand about her and Opie, but Tig wouldn't even begin to think about sex with her when those damn stitches marred her naked body, reminding him of her fragility.

But that idea didn't have the inviting effect on her man that she was shooting for; Tig scowled again and grit his teeth, Joss sitting up again in an effort to be clear of his disapproval, but that wasn't possible. "What the hell, Joss? Am I going to have to get one of those fucking cone things for you that they put on dogs when they get their nuts cut off?"

"They itched with the stupid dress, okay?" She lied; her tone a little louder than it should have been. The last thing she had in her was a fight with Tig. She didn't expect her stitches idea to work, and it hadn't…tomorrow would go off as it was set to; they wouldn't be skipping any parts. Oh God, she remembered when it was the wedding that was going to be the most dreadful part of the day…ha…nope, not anymore. A sudden growl followed by a hissing 'snip-snip' sound distracted Joss and she immediately turned towards the rackies, watching Jesus attempt to wrestle an animal cracker away from Spike, his little hands wrapped around one half of the camel his sister was currently washing. "Jesus! No! That's her cookie, you leave her alone," Joss scolded and then dug into the bag in between her and Tig, tossing three or four animal crackers at the most mischievous of the baby raccoons. "Here, there's some for you, eat them and be good." Then without missing a beat, she turned back to Tig, her tone shifting from authoritative to apologetic without any stumbles. "I'm sorry, Tig." She looked up at him and shook her head like she had more to say but couldn't think of the words. "Everything is so—"

"Shhh," Tig swallowed the last of his beer as he put his arms around her again and pulled her against him once more. "I know it is, little girl, it's okay. I got a lotta things kicking me in the gut right now too," he told her, but didn't look at her, his voice heavy…Joss knew what this was, and she felt so petty now. "Didn't realize you and me are tying this knot again on the anniversary—" he stopped like that was too decent a word to use, he cleared his throat, Joss felt some faint tremors starting to win his big body over. "On the same day that I kill—"

Joss lifted her head from his shoulder quickly, angling to look at him. "No," she told him and gently laid a finger over his lips, wishing like hell that she could take that part of his life away…there was so much "dad" in Tig. "Don't say it, you'll give it more power over you if you say it, you know how this works."

Tig nodded, his eyes on hers, letting her lead him through, but brushing her finger away before it looked like he was. "Yeah," he answered and then sighed, but took control again with his finger and thumb hooking under her chin and steadying the gaze they shared. "But my point is, that I need tomorrow to finally have something different attached to it, I need it to have some new meaning around it." Joss listened like she always did, her heart pounding with how much she wanted to give him that, but she was still so unsure. How? Where was she supposed to find the sentiment Tig wanted her to have? Opie? Was that somehow the answer? Tig's stare became a little more intense and he grimaced at her, but held her face tipped up to his. "You need that too," he told her.

She knew what he meant, she knew what he was trying to tell her to feel…but if Joss couldn't tell herself how to feel, then how could Tig do it? Besides, how was shedding a tear over that thing in the freezer going to help her? Wouldn't that, assuming Joss did find some part of herself that could cry for it, make her feel worse? But what was there to cry over? That thing in the freezer was only a constant reminder that there had been another one…only a few years ago…some twisted shape, a crime against nature, a monstrous, malformed beast. Tears beaded at the corners of Joss's eyes, she knew this feeling; horror. "Tig, I can't." She said; her voice so tight that the words squeaked out.

Tig sighed, he sounded tired, maybe too tired to hold her the way she wished he would, she needed to hide from this right now…but he wasn't letting her. He just pushed up with his thumb and lifted her chin higher. "Look, I already told you that I got a lotta my own shit to deal with today, so what I'm going to say to you probably won't come out right. So if I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry, and I didn't mean it that way, Joss." He took a moment to at least make an attempt to organize his words, leaving Joss afraid to hear them in the space of silence that hung between them. What was he about to say that could be so hurtful? "I know why you think you can't mourn that boy, our boy. I know why you feel like you don't want to. But quit telling me that you 'can't' do it, or that you 'can't' understand feeling this! Because you're full of shit, Joss! I just watched you out here with the rackies, giving them confidence to do stupid shit, making sure they've all got enough to eat and drink, breaking up their fights, giving them your damn cereal bar shit, putting what they need before what you know you need…" Tig was shaking his head, he was half excited to be making her face this and half genuinely annoyed that he had to. "You've got it in you, Joss! Grow up and accept it, because you're not getting anywhere until you do, and neither are we! I spent some time today having to realize that I've done a lot of changing since you and me hooked up, I'm not who I was, I'm not passing the time while you're laid up fucking around on you, I'm not pretending that there's nothing between you and me because I think I 'can't' do it, so you don't get to do that shit anymore either!" He stopped, like maybe he was trying to tone it down some…when Tig opened up, things poured out of him in a fury, and now was no exception…and Joss was…was…she wanted to say scared, but that wasn't it…she was ashamed of herself. Tig leveled another hard look at her, shaking his head, he didn't want to be yelling at her like this, but he just couldn't let things be as they were. "You gotta step up, baby. You got to! Cuz I'm damn tired of being the only one that is! You can do this, so stop telling yourself you can't!"


	59. Holes

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 59

Joss and Lauren were on their way back from the hair salon, Lauren's dark, brown hair tucked up into an immaculate French Twist Roll, her always perfect make-up even more perfect now for the wedding. Joss's long black hair was tucked up too, a few curls had been put into it, which she'd initially objected to, but after everything that had been on her mind, the semi-fight with Tig and the mystery of this stupid Opie thing, Joss didn't put up too much of a struggle. And really, it didn't look that bad, a romantic up-do with gossamer little tendrils of black and red ringlets cascading down over the back of her neck, framing her face, spilling across her forehead. Lauren had thought it was wonderful, said she couldn't wait to see it with the veil…but Joss just couldn't get there…grow up…she was trying, but…growing up was hard to do…shit, had she really just thought that?

"You're going to fix your eyeliner though, aren't you?" Lauren was laughing, as she drove down main street, in route back to Joss's house so that they both could get dressed and then head to the clubhouse. Joss had told the stylist she wanted her usual, piercing and exotic look of shiny, black wings at the corner of each eye, but the know-it-all cosmetologist had said that look was "too harsh" for a wedding. Fuck her! "I know you're not walking down that aisle without your usual sexy, goth style! We can put you in a white dress, but we still can't take you anywhere!" She laughed again.

Joss sighed, today just felt so…flat…and she didn't want to do it, any of it. This wedding had created so many problems between her and Tig…well, no, it wasn't really the wedding, she was just scapegoating the wedding…it was what Tig had attached to the wedding that was causing the problems. He was completely right about what he'd said to her the night before, about how he'd been the one making most of the changes, he'd been the one faced with the most shit to accept and acknowledge. What had Joss done? What changes had she really made to herself in order to be with Tig? Yes, she'd become 'property,' she'd given up any rights or free will that she might have otherwise had in doing so, but hey, in this life, that was the best any woman could hope for. But she hadn't had to learn how to let Tig in, let him be close, she never had to fight with herself about loving him; it had come naturally to her, she'd wanted it, she'd prayed for it, and when it finally came, she was already there, waiting patiently for it with open arms. Not so for Tig, all he knew how to do was fight this, and he still fought it, he always would…how many times had she recognized that? But Tig had faced his feelings for her, he'd started letting some of them slip over the wall he'd built up, stilling his weaponry when they appeared…most of the time…damn, he'd even said he loved her, out loud! Tig had done all these things…that thing in the freezer…Tig was doing what he'd always said he couldn't do…Joss had to do the same. This was what the club had to see, this was what would show the club how strong they were, how much they loved one another, how they'd be there for each other through anything, and that they'd hold the club in the same regards. Jesus, if Joss couldn't stand beside her man, her husband, and lay that thing in the freezer to rest, how united could she and Tig look to the rest of SAMCRO? This club didn't need a wedding, it needed a funeral.

That thing in the freezer wasn't in the freezer anymore, Joss had checked when she'd awoken, alone, knowing that Tig was already at the clubhouse, doing whatever it was that he was doing for today. It was the only time since she'd been home from the hospital that Joss had opened the freezer hoping to see that little, round, plastic container in there. But it wasn't, it was with Tig, he hadn't decided against this farewell. Despite what Joss knew she had to do, what she felt so terrible about not having given back to Tig in exchange for all the things he'd pushed through for her, Joss felt sick to her stomach…she didn't want to do this, she didn't want to feel this…she didn't want to have the ability to look at that damn container and think about what might have been and what it could have meant to her, if only she'd let it. She had to let it…she had to share this with her man…the father of her…no, she just couldn't say it, let alone do it…but she had to…she had to!

Joss's head collapsed back against the passenger side seat and she rolled her neck weakly over in Lauren's direction, her eyes slanted with reluctance and unease. "Hey, can we talk about something else instead of the wedding? I know that sounds crazy being that it's like an hour or so away, but…"

"Nerves, huh?" Lauren asked and Joss nodded her head emphatically when Lauren offered the excuse that Joss herself hadn't been able to think of. "Okay, back to those ladies we were talking to, Alyssa and her friend from the Netherlands."

"Yeah!" Joss immediately smiled, excited to be discussing this once again. "I'm glad what they said has you thinking too! I'm really putting some logical thought into giving people with disabilities, or who are recovering from injuries…or just people in general who want to learn to ride, a place to do that!"

Lauren was nodding, "We'd have to take a course to get certified for that, but I'm sure we could pass the accreditation test. I mean, we're both better than average in the saddle." Joss nodded in agreement as Lauren's thoughts got more intense. "It would be really great to be able to help someone like Alyssa with those fused lower lumbar vertebrae, nothing like a little sitting trot with no stirrups to massage your spine!"

"And her friend, Dutch, if we put her on a horse and taught her how bend him with her legs, those muscles would be back in shape in no time, and she'd lose that bad ass gangsta limp of hers." Joss laughed, already seeing this in her mind…Alyssa's red hair bouncing along on her shoulders as she sat a trot, the tension being relieved in her back showing in the peaceful look that came over her face, and Dutch jumping down off of a horse, gathering the reins and leading her mount down to the barn, her bad leg showing absolutely no signs of ever having been bad. Wow! They could help people, they really could!

"Hmm," Lauren suddenly mused, breaking the hopefulness of the daydreaming that was going on. "But, if we really were to do this, um…what horse are we going to use for lessons? Who do we put people brand new to riding, and possibly not up to physical par, on? I mean, Skip's too old and Markus is too…rotten and Sam is—"

"Sam!" Joss interjected and laughed, feeling so much better than before. Lauren was laughing too, but then both girls were quiet, deep in thought. "We'd have to scrape together what cash we could and hit the horse auction over in Clements. See if we could get a big, old draft that will put up with anything and be very patient and bombproof."

"Good idea!" Agreed Lauren, "And it would be really great to rescue a draft at an auction, too many of those big Belgians and Clydesdales and all end up on meat trucks…slaughter houses pay by the pound, and the big guys…"

"Yeah," Joss said sadly, not wanting to think about something like that happening to a horse, particularly the big, gentle giants that draft horses were…she had enough death to deal with today. "Maybe we could buy more than one? That would really be nice, for all involved!"

Again Lauren nodded, but paused a moment. "What about licensing and insurance? We'd need that if we're going to be a lesson barn of any kind, we have to look into that before we do anything."

"True," Joss sighed, reality finally catching up with her as well, but that's when she realized something that was yet to be said by either of them. "You know, I don't mean to push you one way or the other, but we're talking about this like—"

"We're actually going to do it?" Asked Lauren, looking like she was now feeling a little overwhelmed, but Joss was encouraged when the smile returned to her face. "Should we?"

Joss's own smile returned…but there was still something in the way of the "yes" that was lying in her throat. "I have to talk to Tig, but…" Joss's smile widened, Tig wouldn't understand what the hell they were doing, but he would understand how much she wanted this. "Yes! Let's do it!" Wow…all of a sudden one mystery that Joss hadn't even started to worry about was solved, gone, poof, just like that! Gemma said she needed to have something outside of Tig, and Joss also needed her own thing so she wasn't trying to rush in and wipe the club's nose all the time…and now she had it! And it wasn't Opie! Her thing was starting a riding school with Lauren!

For the first time today Joss relaxed, her thoughts positive, as long as she kept them confined to the lesson barn she and Lauren were really going to give a go. Wow, she'd always wanted to teach lessons, she'd always wanted to share how wonderful horses were with other people…but if she could do that and be helping someone overcome something along the way? Wow, yeah that really was…wow! Ever since she was a little kid, horses had always been the only part of her life that ever felt good, they were the only thing that made all the bad stuff go away…until Tig…overcome…she had to show him that she could, she owed it to him and to the club too. If Tig could do it, so could she.

Chapter 59; Part 2

What were the odds that Tig was going to find what he was looking for over at the garage, or on the clubhouse roof, or sitting alone, brooding in one of the dorms? But he'd been going around in circles, with a shovel still on his shoulder, for a good forty-five minutes now. Finally he was giving up his search, on his way back to return the shovel at the garage…ice, shit, he should grab a handful of ice outta the machine behind the clubhouse bar, just in case…he didn't want anything to happen to his boy out there in the saddlebag he'd fitted to his bike this morning. He turned around once again, heading back to the clubhouse for the fourth time in the last half hour when a familiar voice grunted to him from inside the boxing ring.

"Hey, where the hell you been?" Hap was shirtless, sweaty, leaning on the top rope of the ring, knuckles taped up, but no gloves, why bother? He was going at it with Sack…prospects had to be toughened up. Tig changed course again, walking over towards the ring as Sack wobbled up beside Happy with a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, Happy ignoring him and instead noticing the tool over Tig's shoulder. "That your weddin' shovel?" He laughed hoarsely. "They call it 'jumping the broom,' bro, not 'the shovel'." Hap continued, seeming to take as much satisfaction in goading the bridegroom as he was punching up the prospect.

Sack wiped at his mouth and looked at Hap, then Tig, that informative look on his face. "I, uh, think that's only an African American thing."

Tig, already not in the mood, sneered up at Sack, Hap doing the same, but acting on it before Tig could. "Somebody ask you?" Happy rasped at the prospect, raising a fist, just for show, but Sack believed it, and Tig couldn't help smirk a little at him. Sack was quiet, shaking his head, trying to get out of what he'd gotten himself into when Hap finally pushed him through a rescue hatch…but in a way that only Hap could, "Stop fucking bleeding and go get me a cigarette, you little pussy turd."

Sack shrank back, slinking out of the ring whining words like "fine" or "whatever" or something like that, but Tig wasn't really paying attention, he just walked up to Hap, taking the shovel down off his shoulder and hoping there weren't going to more jokes about it. Things felt so close to going off the tracks he was trying so damn hard to keep them on; this had to go right today, all of it…and he didn't even know how Joss was, if she was handling it, if she'd even gotten out of bed this morning and would be showing up like she was supposed to. He'd put it to her last night, he really had…his own words burned in his ears now…shit, he didn't mean to tell her all of that the way he did, but…but he had to…God damn it, she had to know how frustrated and…and…hurt he was. But Joss wasn't his only problem. He looked up at Hap, ignoring everything else that had happened already. "You seen Ope?"

"Hmm," Hap thought for a moment, running a hand over his shaved head, wicking the sweat there away until it ran down his inked back. No one but Tig knew about Ope's offer from Jax…well, Joss sorta knew, Tig had blurted it out to her like an idiot, but Hap didn't know, Ope's whereabouts weren't as vital to Hap as they were to Tig and Tig's fear was becoming a little more real with every second Hap was quiet, and things got no better when Hap finally spoke. "No, not all day, man. You want me to get some guys and find him for you?"

Shit, Tig knew it, he just did. How fitting that Ope would take off with Jax on the wedding day, the one that was supposed to show all of Tig's brothers what he and Joss were, show them that it was so much more than crazy. It was probably just one too many weddings for Ope, it certainly was for Tig…but fuck…Ope was gone…gone. Jesus Christ, all Tig wanted to think was that now other brothers would be pulling out, that he'd have to start all over with a bunch of new people that he didn't know and didn't trust…but that wasn't what was pounding against his chest. Ope was gone…Ope…he needed Ope, Ope was noble, Ope was fair, Ope was the only brother he could trust to take care of Joss after Tig wasn't there to do it anymore; only Ope could love her enough to send her to her old man. Fuck…Ope was gone…left his problems behind and hit the road…Ope's problems…Tig had created more than a few of them for the poor kid…shit. "No," Tig said somberly as he looked up at Hap, more sad than angry, and not able to disguise it. "Let him go."

Hap's eyes narrowed, his brow creasing as he looked at Tig like he couldn't have just heard what he heard in his voice…but yeah, Hap knew he did, and so did Tig. That was it, Tig was out of here, he wasn't good with this kinda shit, didn't like anyone knowing anything like that about him, not even Hap. Tig swung the shovel back up onto his shoulder and turned towards the clubhouse again…ice, for his boy…but right as he turned his back towards Hap, Hap was calling to him again. "Hey," said his brother, something pulling his voice down that Tig knew Hap didn't like either, but Tig turned around to face him, seeing Hap's shoulders drop as he shook his head, muttering, "fuck," he looked back at Tig. "Sorry about the shovel shit," he said, but didn't look at Tig as he said it, but that was fine, Tig knew he was the only brother that Hap was likely to ever say "sorry" too. Tig nodded, not wanting to make anymore of this than had been made already, turning towards the clubhouse again feeling kind of alone, despite the loyalty Hap had just showed him. Maybe Hap knew that, because as Tig walked away, he could hear the grin in Hap's voice as he yelled, "It's just that I had a hacksaw when I married DeDe, not a shovel!"


	60. Best Wishes

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 60

"And this!" Joss held up the tiara in one hand and her veil in the other. None of them had been expecting the limo that had suddenly wobbled down Joss's long, dirt road driveway, Tig seemed to have forgotten to mention a limo, but she and Lauren and Chucky had all piled into it, and were about six minutes out from the clubhouse now…and Joss was…not coping well…this was really happening now…she was trussed into the dress that she and Lauren and Chucky had all made more functional together, the remaining ruffles on the skirt taking up nearly one whole side of the limo. She looked like a bride, a real bride…there was no stopping it, the wedding was coming…and so was the funeral…and she had to do it…both of them. And this veil…this stupid, flimsy, lace edged fabric…all day long she'd been soothing herself with little bursts of encouraging words…she could do it…for Tig, she'd do it for Tig…but this veil for some reason was tearing her down. "What do I do with this? My head's too big and I don't know how you put either one of these on! Which one goes first?"

"Joss, calm down," Lauren wasn't laughing, but she patiently took the veil and tiara from Joss. "You're freaking out, and you're already married to the guy." She reminded as she inspected the tiny hooks behind each rhinestone of the tiara and the little loops that were sewn around the center of the delicate, sheer veil. "Okay, lean over here, I think I figured it out."

"I have bobby-pins!" alerted Chucky, pulling two packages of them from his tuxedo pocket with a proud smile, "I went to the Dollar Store, special for your day, Joss!"

Joss smiled, but unlike other times when Chucky did something sweet like that, she was too agitated to really feel any relief from it. "Thanks, Chucky," she said nonetheless, leaning forward, looking down into what still seemed to be the endless ruffles of her dress as Lauren carefully affixed the tiara into her hair, then hooked the veil to it. Veils…what was with them? Joss had forgotten all about it until Lauren had said about how her hair was going to look with it…Joss had never even seen herself in the veil, and how good could it look? What point was it making to wear something to "veil" her face that was transparent? You couldn't hide anything behind that.

"Okay, I think I got it. Sit up and let's make sure it's on straight," Said Lauren as she sat back in her seat beside Chucky, then glanced at him. "Stand by with those bobby-pins!"

Chucky nodded, so delighted to be in the wedding, in the limo, in possession of anything that might help the bride he was "man of honor" to, and that time, Joss did sort of feel a tickle of how sweet that all really was. But something felt…weird on her head…the tiara wobbled and the veil, it was kind of…constricting-ly draped around her face…great…just great! She had visions of herself as the Scarecrow from "The Wizard of Oz"…yeah, like she needed a brain…she had that…it seemed to be a heart that was lacking…Tig's boy…no, don't…not now. Joss's eyes searched out Lauren through the haze of pale, gossamer white. "Is this how it's supposed to be? It's too close to my face! It's sticking to my mascara and I can feel my eyelashes poking through it like leg hairs through pantyhose!"

"Joss!" Lauren laughed again, "it's okay, settle down, it's a nice, simple, non-poofy veil; it looks nice!"

"Yeah," Chucky was agreeing, nodding as he looked Joss over. "Your head's not too big!"

Poor Chucky, he was trying, but he only earned a flat look from both girls that time, but not for long, Joss's panic only grew…this wedding was so close…and so was that funeral. "But look!" She half shouted, and then began to inhale an exhale quickly and exaggeratedly through her nose, the fine, sheer fabric sucked against her nostril then puffing outward again and again. "What if I inhale it and suffocate halfway through the wedding?"

"Oh my God, girl!" Lauren was still laughing, but she was talking a lot louder now. "I swear! I shoulda brought some Ace for you! What is wrong with you?"

Joss sighed and sank back into her seat…wow…was she really acting up enough to warrant horse tranquilizers? Yeah…she probably was. What was wrong with her? She couldn't talk about that, Tig hadn't given her clearance to tell anyone about the funeral…but that's what was wrong with her…having to step up…having to find a way to know how to do something that she'd been avoiding doing for nearly the last three years of her life. But she had to…if not for that thing in the…well, no longer in the freezer, then for her man! She'd said it to herself once already, if Tig could do it, then so could she…but she was getting closer and closer to having to…and she'd hoped that by now, she'd have figured out how to get it done. But…no…oh God, she was going to let Tig down…she was going to leave him alone to feel this…this…whatever it was that he felt for that…thing. That thing wasn't a raccoon, and Joss couldn't make it be one, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't even get Opie, who loved the hell out of her, to agree to stay on…nope, she just hugged him…she was useless. Jesus, no wonder Gemma had taken such control of that other wedding…it was pretty apparent to the queen that Joss had no idea how handle matters of state, or how to present herself in court and kingdom…and when it came to heirs…yeah, Joss was useless. She looked back at Lauren, and Chucky, who both seemed to be looking so much more forward to this than Joss was herself…to them it was just the wedding…but to Joss, it was just the beginning of not being what Tig wanted her to be. "I'm just…I don't know…I can already feel myself screwing this up…you know?"

"You are not going to 'screw this up!'" Hearing Chucky speaking with such authority was shocking, but he had, and he was now leaning across to Joss, doing his best to take her hands and hold them in his, but the most he could muster was hooking his finger and thumb around her wrist, comfortingly and firmly. "You look beautiful, and Tig is going to think you're beautiful. You two are going to stand up in front of SAMCRO and leave them feeling how fortunate they are to have the two of you. You're special, Joss! That can't help but come through, how do you think you hooked Tig? And Tig can get through anything, I know he can, I've seen him do it. He'll get you through this too!"

The limo was completely silent, Lauren and Joss stunned to hear such fortitude and sentiment from Chucky, but he'd hit the right mark. His fingers still steadied Joss and his eyes still held hers, a modest smile on his face. Wow…if ever there was a time when Joss had to hear such a pep-talk! Tig would get her through…he would…he had to…they were at the clubhouse!

Chapter 60; Part 2

The sky had darkened, clouds were rolling in more and more, but Tig had gone to his shades awhile ago and wasn't taking them off, no matter how damn dark it got. Fuck, it didn't rain much in this part of California, but it figures today would be one of the days it did. The clubhouse lot was full of bikes clear over into the garage lot, reminding him of that party thrown in honor of him giving Joss that property patch, and the same shit-fuckers that hardly went on two or three runs a year with the club had turned out for this again, smiling at him as they passed, clapping him on the shoulder here and there, talking at him with sideshow like glee, all of them awaiting the main event…Tig Trager, Sergeant at Arms for SAMCRO, next in line to the throne, was a dead man walking…he was getting married. Winnings were being paid out in several clandestine little huddles that Tig saw but tried to pay no attention to; it was difficult to tell just what the bet had been, that he'd actually legally marry the bitch he'd put his patch on, or that he wouldn't…either way, it was a sport and spectacle that needed taking down…and Tig hoped to hell what he had to say would fell it too…but he needed Joss here…

The crowd, as big and annoying as it was, had yet another unexpected and perplexing effect…it made Tig notice more and more that Ope wasn't here…everyone around him wasn't Ope, and the longer it seemed to take that damn limo to get here, the more Tig was noticing it…Ope was gone. He had to stop thinking about that, after all, it was no surprise. Just because he really wanted that story to have a different ending didn't mean he should be so shocked when it failed to. Ope was gone…okay…Tig was dragging enough shit with him through life, he didn't need that too…but Ope was gone…didn't even hang around to hear Tig out at this wedding, didn't even give the future king a chance to make his pledge to his brothers…Ope just packed up and left…gone. Shit, everything Tig knew he needed in that VP spot was Ope…who would take it now? This club couldn't run without a competent, level headed, impartial brother second in command of it…who the hell was Tig supposed to put there now? Happy? No, if he didn't put Hap in as the Sergeant at Arms, he might as well abdicate his throne now. Maybe Chibs? Tig had always liked the Scot's wild side, even when Chibs backed Jax to irritating measures, there was always something that Tig and Chibs could share to laugh at, tear up or bang the shit out of. But that wasn't exactly the mentality Tig knew he needed at his right arm…Jesus, Charming wouldn't last, there'd be a gang of kilt clad marauders roaring into town with blue paint on their faces, burning and pillaging…hopefully in the reverse order…it would be like something out of "The Road Warrior"…yeah, it sounded pretty fucking cool…yeah…yeah! Do it, man, do it! They'd never take his freedom! What? Seriously? Shit! God fucking damn it…this was exactly why he needed Ope!

"Hi, Tigger," The voice was flirty, well practiced in being so, and much closer to him than Tig really welcomed at the moment. He was on edge…where the hell was that damn limo? Joss had gotten into it, right? She was coming? She hadn't…hadn't…decided she couldn't deal with their boy and taken off…just like Ope had? Christ, he wasn't going to have to replace more than just a VP, was he? No! No! Joss wouldn't…that he at least knew. He took a deep breath, grabbing hold of the only faith in anything he had at the moment and turned around towards the alluringly feminine voice, finding two women smiling at him. He remembered one of them…her body, not her name…about five-two, green eyes, light hair and all over Latina; curvy hips, delicious ass, narrow waist...yeah, Tig remembered a lot about her…but he didn't want to right now, despite how her Argentine accent pulled at him to smile slyly at her.

"Yeah?" He replied to the girl, trying to place the sweetbutt standing with her, also smiling at him, and also with blond hair and green eyes…green eyes…he should have known he was destined for a girl with green eyes. The Latina's friend broke eye contact with Tig, shyly looking over her shoulder like someone had called her, the block like letters "HMC" tattooed along her collar bone…yeah, Tig remembered her too, she'd been a trade from the Hammers, but she'd been nothing but loyal and considerate to SAMCRO since she'd gotten here…yeah, cuz she was dying to be someone's old lady, just dying to, just the same as most of these sweetbutts were. And he couldn't offer either of them that…so what the hell were they stopping by to say "hello" for? Shit…where was that fucking limo?

Argentina smiled again, her shy, green eyed friend stepping a little closer to her, but now she looked at Tig too. "We just wanted to say—"

"Congratulations!" The shy girl suddenly jumped to life and said, then began to laugh at herself even before her Latina friend did. "I'm sorry, but we do mean it." She assured then, and Tig felt himself sorta smirk at the blush that rose in the shy girl's cheeks.

"It's a'ight," he told them both without thinking about it, because it had suddenly occurred to him that not everyone was here to see if this was really going to happen, if he was really going to go through with it, ready for a train wreck to happen the moment he and Joss stood up in front of them. Some people here were actually happy for Joss and him…and he hated it…but, right now, he needed to know that. Things would be okay…so would Joss. He was wondering how to get out of this "conversation" without having to completely bitch out and tell the girls "thanks" when he heard a vehicle pull onto the lot, it's horn honking at the crowds of bikers, old ladies and hangarounds that all tried to peer into the tinted windows of the black limousine.

Tig turned, forgetting the two girls, but he couldn't see a damn thing due to the crowd around the luxury car…fucking jackals…Ope would've been all over that, he'd have been knocking brothers on their asses for leering into the darkened glass the way they were…but God damn it, Ope was gone! Without a word to the two green eyed blonds, Tig was off, chest and shoulders pushed out, a sneer on his face and his steps large and menacing, parting the crowd like a foul mouthed Moses. Tig saw dress before he saw Joss, the limo door opening; a rush of white ruffles pouring out onto the asphalt as she struggled to climb out of the backseat.

"I can't find my feet!" She was complaining, her voice cracking with how nervous Tig could already feel she was, but she had help…thankfully…Chucky, dressed like a damn butler, rushing around the limo to her aid, grabbing the layers of skirt and holding it up so that Joss wouldn't be standing on it. Joss looked flustered and nervous. Her face was covered by her veil, his princess bride arriving in mysterious and modest style; the first to see the lovely paleness of her cheek, the sparkling green of her eyes and the red of her lips would be her old man, her husband. Tig smiled, flipped his shades up on top of his head, yeah, everything would be fine…

"Got it," Chucky smiled confidently to her and then lent her his shoulder to push on as she made it to her feet out of the car. "And there's Tig," he informed Joss, who stood now pulling at her veil like it was trying to attack her, but Chucky's smile only broadened, his hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge forward. "Go to your man, Joss."

Author's Note: Sorry this is late again! Thunderstorms cut out my satellite connection, and I had to wait for it to come back to post. But, thanks so much to "Argentina" and "the shy girl" for being brave enough to enter the world of Tijo!:-) I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for reading and reviewing! - Grace


	61. Black Mass

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 61

"Wow, babe!" Juice was so struck with Lauren's appearance, had already walked a complete circle around her, his eyes all over the way her creamy skin and dark hair looked when surrounded in the antique looking burgundy lace with black trim. Lauren did look good, so put together, so hauntingly vintage in the sleeveless A-line and her black, patent leather heels. Juice was in awe, it was so easy to see, his jaw was still dropped open as he stopped his circling and looked at his girl like he couldn't believe a woman so beautiful and elegant was actually his girl. "And your hair…" his hand moved slowly around Lauren's head without touching the perfection he admired, and he stood at a loss for words and shook his head. "You should wear this when we get married!" He finally gasped.

What? Joss felt her eyes get big and Chucky looked just as ecstatic. "I've got a tux!" He proclaimed, thumbs under his starched, white collar and smiling from ear to ear, but neither girl looked at him; they were too busy looking at each other.

Was that so? Lauren and Juice were engaged? Really? Lauren looked back at Joss, her face a total blank, but realization was gradually warming in Lauren's eyes…oh…of course. Joss cracked a smile, trying so hard not to be as nervous as she still was as they stood here in the parking lot, waiting for Tig, everyone else having already filed into the clubhouse, waiting for this thing to start. Joss glanced quickly at Juice then back at her maid of honor. "He has no idea what he just said, does he?" She half laughed.

"Nope," Lauren sighed, looking at Juice who was still so busy taking her in that he didn't hear any of what was being said about him. "Not a clue," she laughed, but smiled…Juice would never be described as a "master of surprise." He was just too cute and giddy and…dense. How the hell had he ever become a biker? Tig's prospect no less! But he had, and Joss couldn't have been gladder for it, for the club and for Lauren. AurenJuice was getting married! Well, as soon as Juice remembered to actually ask Lauren, they were. Great! Really great! Not only were they a wonderful couple that Joss loved, but starting that lesson barn would be so much easier a feat if Joss's partner was in the club by marriage and not just someone's chick!

A dyna's engine roared to life at the garage, shaking the ground, its rear baffles obviously removed, pipes cut back a bit and drilled, the sound of the engine thundering against the walls around it, loudly announcing that today was special, today was a statement all within itself…today was about the proudest noise there was in the world. Joss knew the sound, as over-amplified as it was now, and when she looked up, there was Tig, riding over towards where the bridal party waited. Oh, so that's what he'd been working on so long for the wedding? He'd re-modified his exhaust to give it that "wedding, charge!" kind of echo and throb. Okay, yeah, that was good; sure beat the hell out of those tin cans tied to the bumper with string! Tig was making sure he got everyone's attention, revving the throttle more than a few times, the explosive growl bellowing like the thunder that Joss kept expecting to hear with such a cloudy sky. She could see through the open clubhouse door that heads were turned in the direction of the raging cycle noise, all mouths quiet, and the closer Tig got to his bride, the more boisterous the noise became until Joss could feel it vibrating against her heart. She smiled. Tig knew she was struggling, she didn't have to say it…and he always found some way to touch her, to steady her…he'd get her through.

Tig pulled up beside her, Lauren, Juice and Chucky, cutting his engine, ready to take Joss in hand and…and what? Joss suddenly remembered she had no idea what was going to happen this time, or how this wedding was going to proceed. Why was she walking in with Tig? Why was Juice here, with his bike no less…and a side car? Hmm…what did Tig do? He'd told her they wouldn't be "doing the same shit" over again…but what were they doing? Ah…this at least was a better worry…a really nice distraction…hopefully, Joss would stay curious and surprised by everything, and no other thoughts would get the chance to occur to her.

Tig looked towards Juice; Joss could see the wheels of putting whatever his plan was into action still turning. "Where's Hap?" Tig asked and sounded put out that he had to ask.

"Last time I saw him, he was kinda…stuck between his past and his present, if you know what I mean," answered Juice, chuckling a bit but rubbing his hand over his Mohawk tensely, like he really didn't want to be delivering such news to Tig.

"Fuck! I fucking knew it!" Tig's fist pounded against his dark, denim clad thigh and then he sighed, turning his face up towards Joss now, calming a bit as he looked up at her. He hadn't said much to her today, he'd been busy, his mind moving from one thing to another, dotting every "I" and crossing every "T." Whatever they were doing, Tig was making sure they were going to do it to whatever specifications he'd fixed. "Hey, little girl," he said to her, opening one arm to her as he still sat on his bike, and Joss was quick to move into that invitation, letting Tig wrap his arm around her waist and pull her tightly against him, crushing the stupid ruffles of her dress and making it feel like they weren't even there, like nothing could separate them. "You doin' okay?"

Was she? She smiled, but really, the moment Tig had asked her how she was it made her want to cry…cry and tell him that she didn't know how to be the wife he wanted her to be at the funeral, but she didn't, she wouldn't dare…making a pact with herself to just not think about funerals or freezers anymore until it was…until it was all happening in front of her. It was the only thing she could do now. But she could see Tig looking at her with growing concern, like he could tell there was bad stuff trickling through her mind into larger and larger pools of her inner chaos. She had to stop him from jumping in after her and start treading those dark waters for the time being. Joss forced her smile wider, leaned more into her man, felt how solid he was against her, how strong he was…like nothing could knock him over…he could get through anything, and he'd get her through too. "I just hate this thing," she told him, and once more began picking at and pulling at the veil that lay limply over her face, her nose pressing into it like some kind of a beak.

"I know," Tig nodded sympathetically, tracing her cheek through the sheer, white fabric with is other hand. "But you heard what Lauren said, that has to stay down until I lift it up off of you, so stay under there." He finished a bit sternly, but hugged Joss a little harder with the arm around her in compensation…or because he knew that it wasn't really the veil that was bothering Joss.

Lauren's eyes caught Joss's and she cringed a bit. "Sorry," Lauren offered tensely, because it was her, who in the initial conversation with Tig about whether or not Joss had to even wear a veil, had gotten into how the tradition with them usually worked.

Joss smiled, but she was shaking her head. "No you're not," she told Lauren. "But just wait until your wedding!" She smirked.

"Wedding?" Juice lurched into the conversation all at once, his eyes going from Lauren to Joss and back to Lauren, where he squared up in front of her, his eyes still wandering over her perfectness even though his expression was one of having been struck over the head. "Wedding?" he repeated to her, his hands going to Lauren's shoulders and holding her at arm's length there. "Babe, what I say?" He asked desperately, awash in the fear of having let a really big cat out of a really big bag, but Lauren didn't answer him, she couldn't, she was laughing far too hard.

But the rumble of another bike blanketed their conversation and had everyone's attention, Happy limping in late and looking disgusted as he pulled up next to Tig. "Sorry, bro." He said; eyes downcast as he shook his head. "DeDe asked if she could hold the baby, and Lauren told her something like 'bitch, you're done holding anything of my man's!' and the then the fur started flying…" Hap sighed deeply and closed his eyes a moment like he still wasn't far enough away from all that angry estrogen, then he looked thoughtfully at Tig. "You still got that shovel?"

Chapter 61; Part 2

Gemma sat in the front row, there beside Clay, but the look on her face was nothing close to the pleasant, proud and regal expression the king turned Joss's direction. No, she sat there looking ever so critical, her eyebrows having more than raised when first Juice's bike roared into the clubhouse, Lauren on the back and Chucky in the side car, taking its place on the left side of the temporary stage that hadn't been in the clubhouse the last time Joss had been in here; something else that Tig must have forgotten to mention. Next into the clubhouse, also ripping away at his throttle was Happy, riding through the crowd of guests and taking his place on the right side of the stage, and then finally, with a monstrous, earsplitting rumble, Tig, with his bride behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, drove straight into the clubhouse, stopping in between Juice's bike and Hap's, helping Joss off of the back, careful of her dress, remembering that she'd needed assistance getting out of the limo, and Joss smiled…the things he remembered, against the things he never would, was just amazing sometimes…yeah, he'd get her through.

This was different though, it was nothing like a wedding…except that Joss had on the Swan Lake dress and Tig was wearing a new, black, western shirt; white piping at the seams and pearl, white buttons making it look a little more formal. But no one had walked Joss down the aisle, no one was standing upon this stage with a book to read the ceremony from, it was only Tig and Joss standing on this stage, her on the traditional left with Lauren and Chucky flanking her and Tig on the traditional right, Hap standing there, tough and proud, on the floor, his arms crossed in front of him like a bouncer. What were they doing? The only one who seemed to know was Tig, who stood there and faced the crowd with so much confident power it actually made Joss feel… pleasantly dizzy…her man…he was on this, he had it, all she had to do was follow along and he'd take care of her.

But Gemma obviously wasn't as impressed as Joss was, not with anything it seemed. She sat there with her legs crossed, wearing leopard print heels and a figure hugging bronze tulle dress, the top of it made of Chantilly lace, just off the shoulder, three quarter sleeves, then the gleam of coppery ruched satin belted around her trim waist, a pencil skirt of more bronze Chantilly lace, cut on the bias this time, ended just above the queen's knee, a layer of long, ruffling copper lace finishing off the skirt. Gemma had no problem pulling off the 'sexy mother of the bride look'…hmm…she was wearing a "mother" dress…likely the one she'd picked out to wear to the wedding she'd been planning for Joss and Tig…so…did that mean Gemma still saw herself as Joss's mother? But…even if she did…it didn't mean she'd be happy with what this wedding was like…at best, Gemma looked confused by it all…but then, so was Joss. Just follow Tig…

"Alright," Tig took a step forward towards the crowd, giving Joss a nod just before he turned to address everyone present. "This ain't going to take long, you all know me, you all know what this is, you all know my old lady," again he looked over his shoulder at Joss who stood, waiting for…what? But Tig was doing…something, and he seemed to have control over it, so Joss let him go, standing here, under the stupid veil that was still sticking to her face, but it did afford her the chance to look out over the sea of bikers and their women without anyone realizing she was doing it. There was everyone she knew from her SAMCRO family in the first two rows, well almost everyone…no Jax…big surprise…but wait…there was also no Opie! What? Oh God! She really had failed! No! No! No! She gritted her teeth, steeling herself against the onslaught of tears that pushed at her through the barrier she'd put between herself and the funeral…no…don't stand here now and be a wreck…not now…this was it! She blinked rapidly beneath her sheer shield, imagining that she was somehow fanning away the devastation along with the tears and turned her neck sharply, no longer able to look at the place where Ope should have been standing. But he should have been there…he should have…she'd tried…Hap, Joss loved him the same as any of Tig's brothers, but Opie hadn't made Tig wait at their first wedding, Opie had been there, dutifully going about what was assigned him, though he had more reason than anyone to have turned his back on the task he'd been given. Stop…these thoughts didn't lead anywhere good…and that's what this wedding was supposed to be…something good!

"I could go into how I met that girl," Tig was now saying, pacing up and down the stage, reminding Joss of George C. Scott giving that speech in front of the massive back drop of an American Flag in "Patton." Tig's expression was that of determination, daring anyone to interrupt him or turn away from what he was saying, but no one did, the strangeness of this "ceremony" and the command he exuded fettering their attention to every word he said. "I could try to explain to you all, in words I'm no fucking good at saying, what that girl means to me, what we've been through, how she got to be what she is to me, but fuck that!" A few women gasped as Tig paused, taking no notice, his clear, blue eyes alight and intrepid. Joss herself was feeling more surprised than confused, even Gemma was sitting forward now, awaiting what was about to happen next. "You all know me! You all know the shit I do, because I've heard you all talk about with those blank, fucking looks in your eyes like you all got right now!" Tig stopped pacing and looked out at the crowd, stopping at each face, his eyes boring into everyone else's as some extra reminder of how he had achieved the reputation that he had. "I'm bad, I'm insane, I'm vicious, I'm mean! Cross this club and I'll repossess your ink with a fucking blowtorch! Fight with me and I'll fucking bite your ear off, chew it up and spit it out! I cut up men into little hunks and burn them to fine gray ash! I'll chase you down, cut you open and fuck what's left of you; I'll take all the gore and repulsion of death and I've fucked it until it has no power over me!" Again he paused, he had to, there were a lot of hanging jaws at that last one; maybe there was still a consensus that it was just a rumor? Not anymore! "I am unlike any other brother that any of you ever had or ever fucking will!" And they all knew it…heads nodded as each set of eyes met Tig's icy, dangerous stare.

What was he doing? Was this a wedding or some episode of the Jerry Springer show that some local channels would have chosen to black out? But Joss was silent, Tig was trying to get somewhere with all that he was spouting off about…at least, she hoped. And then the strangest thing caught her eye; Gemma was smiling! It wasn't a big smile, but a closed lip, knowing smile, like she knew where Tig was going and approved of it. Really? Once more Joss stood there confused, trying to piece together anything her man had said into something that had a direction to it that she'd missed, but before she was even half way there, Tig turned towards her, his tone still full of fire and brimstone, but somehow softer, prouder, but he again faced the crowd. "You gotta ask yourself what gets close to that and lives," he told everyone and Joss saw him taking in the reaction of everyone watching as they stood there, thinking about what he'd said, a few eyes lifting in her direction, but Tig cut them off as soon as he noticed it. He nodded and he pointed at Joss like the next words were really going to come with the force of an erupting volcano, but no. "Her," he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear him, but there was no more threat or violence in his tone…at least for that split second, and everyone in audience was now straining their necks and eyes at Joss as though they'd never seen her before, beholding her like she was some strange and powerful creature perched beside the devil himself. Tig again met their stares, "If this girl's strong enough to stand beside me, then you all better believe that she's strong enough to stand beside all of you, God damn it!"

Oh…oh God…Joss felt herself go happily faint, struggled to stay on her feet now…wow…okay, now she saw what Tig had been doing, why he'd been talking up his horribleness, living up to the scary, sick thing he could be and was…wow…she loved him, she knew how lucky she was to see the side of him that she got to see, she knew she was somehow special, or crazy enough, to touch Tig in the places that he allowed her to, though he hated that he did. But she'd never once seen what they had in the way Tig had just put it to all of his brothers; she was strong…she had to be…she could bear the heaviness of her monstrous mate…and if she could do that, she could do anything…anything…Tig's boy…she was the mother of Tig's boy…the feeling coursed through her, new and still a bit frightening, but there was something like…pride…forming from the combustion of the strength Tig had seen in her and announced to everyone. She was strong, being with Tig made her strong…how many times had she found some ability to do or deal with something because he'd simply stood beside her through it? Without knowing it, Joss had somehow been collecting those little pieces of power he lent to her, filling herself up with them, the pile of them growing and growing and growing…growing into that boy…their boy…she was strong…

Tig was talking to the crowd again, saying something about how he and Joss were bound together, something about the safety of strangleholds and fires that melted and melded and tempered things to be stronger than they ever had been, but everything was getting hazy, and Joss wasn't able to pay attention to every word he said anymore, but everyone in attendance was…everyone…and Gemma was nodding, smiling, satisfied, her head turning and her eyes seeking out Joss's…and Joss saw a happy tear slide down the queen's cheek.

There was such a sense of wonder to this thing now and Joss stood lost in it, enjoying this sensation of being whipped into this wind, this power and darkness and strength that was what she and Tig had together, and the way it draped over everyone present. She vaguely heard her man snap his fingers, then hold his palm flat down at Hap, Hap reacting immediately, pulling something small from the pocket of his cut and placing it in Tig's hand. And all of a sudden Tig was in front of her, his arm quickly around her waist and he pulled her to him roughly, holding her against him with such a passionate, crushing force, a black ring, bedecked with a ruby in his free hand. He was looking down at her, demanding her attention, which he had, but his crystal blue eyes held hers with so much intense love that she knew no one else could see, and wasn't supposed to. "I don't need anyone to give you away to me, Joss. I don't need anyone to pronounce you as my legal wife," he told her, still holding that ring between their faces like it was some prize she hadn't yet earned, but would. She watched Tig's lower lip tremor just a little, and she could feel how tense and excited every muscle in his big body was, realizing that she was the same way, poised to strike at whatever this was, ready to do whatever he asked of her. He held the ring lower, but Joss couldn't see it, her eyes were locked on his. "I just need to hear it from you. Are you my wife? Are you with me forever?"

"Yes!" She felt herself say it but she didn't hear it, not in her own head, it was almost as if she'd her heard own voice with Tig's ears. His grip on her was crazy tight now, the cold, black ring slid down onto her finger, and then all she could do was hear, the clubhouse sounding like the site of some hard fought victory as her eyes sank closed, her veil being roughly lifted, and brushed carelessly back over her head as Tig swallowed her in his arms, his mouth over hers, plundering and possessing her more than he ever had before.


	62. Reception

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of a sexual nature._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 62

Joss's arms locked around Tig's neck, he faced her on the bike now, eating up her touch instead of pushing it away or being afraid to feel it. No, now he was starving for it, holding her against him more and more with a needful groan, encouraging her to do the same. They'd tried to talk but it hadn't worked, too drawn to one another, the need to kiss the other devouring all sense or rationality or urge to discuss their wedding…the second one…the one for the club, that Tig had turned into the most marvelous force, dark and dominant, yet strangely inspiring. A celebration run had been called for by all of his brothers, their fists triumphantly in the air as they shouted and applauded. Nearly four hundred reaper patches had made for their bikes, prepping, some polishing, all eager to hit the streets of Charming flaunting, flourishing and being ferocious, revving engines, closing down main street with the breadth of so many roaring, outlaw machines and the strength of their number. They'd wanted to show off their new prince, and his princess, to ride through town with Tig leading all the California chapters, a regal, one-percenter parade of pomp and circumstance. Joss had been so surprised by this want to go gallivanting off like that, so had Tig; it wasn't often that there was something more favorable than popping tops at a biker wedding right after the "I do's" were over. But there was at their wedding…Tig had done it, he'd made everyone there feel and understand the dynamism of what he had with Joss, and what it would do for the club.

The sky was dark and getting darker, rain would likely fall on their parade, but no one balked at a little water, and there wasn't a man among them who couldn't handle wet pavement. The wind had kicked up, swirling around the mass of Tig and Joss, rippling through their hair, lifting Joss's veil away from her head and pulling at the flimsy, white fabric and blowing the skirt of her wedding dress back and perhaps even over her head if Tig hadn't had her clamped to him the way he did. Thunder pounded in the distance, sounding like the passionate rumble deep in Tig's chest as they kissed and kissed and kissed, the fury of the coming storm welcomed; its wildness so pure and so evocative of what they were and how they felt. They were waiting for the rest of the charters to get ready, but it would take some time for so many to helmet up and kick out, and Tig knew it. He'd driven himself and Joss out of the clubhouse and they waited at the edge of the property fence by the street for the rest of their guests to join them. It was the perfect opportunity to be alone…and that's all Joss wanted now…her man…alone…it had been such a long time since he'd fucked her, slow and deep or hard and rough, and she wanted it all…now! But it wasn't like before, it wasn't some attempt to make him forget about their boy or some deluded hope that a good fuck would somehow fix everything. They were back, they were hooked on to each other; they were two things driven by the obsessive desire of their love.

One of Tig's hands cupped her jaw, the other clenched her hip, his leg, that didn't steady the bike, over top of her thigh, lost in the layers of skirt, and he kissed her with a hunger that suggested he may climb on top of her…however that was possible while sitting here in the parking lot, on his bike. Joss didn't remember ever letting go of him since she'd told him "yes" up on that stage in the clubhouse, he was flowing through her, saturating her with his meanness, his viciousness, his insanity…his love for her, and she held her breath as their lips and tongues melded in the hopes of becoming further submerged in that wondrous, murky cocktail. She was ready, truly ready now, her body reacting to his in ways she hadn't felt since she'd ended up in the hospital. Her legs spread wider, no achiness in her abdomen to ignore now, no prickliness of the sutures between their bodies. There was only the deep, dull, throbbing wetness between her thighs, healed tight and petite, begging the entrance of her man, remembering the shape of him and the size of him, salivating for the re-acquaintance of both.

Snap, pearl buttons popped open, but Joss wasn't sure which pair of fingers had torn at them, hers or Tig's, but she knew her mouth pressed to his chest immediately after, her lips burning against his hot skin. She'd never be able to describe the scent or the taste of him, but she knew it when she experienced it, falling under the carnal spell of it, sucking hard at whatever her lips met, the need to have him inside of her full tilt, making her desperately take anything that she could get. One hand trailed down from the base of his neck and slid slowly into his shirt, moving lazily through the dark hairs and over the hidden muscle. Tig's deep groan reverberated against her forehead, but she felt his strong hands take her shoulders and force her back, laying her out against the seat and rear fender, her fingers still playing within his shirt, seeking to softly stroke over his nipple, but Tig was down on her in no time, changing the angle of everything, kissing her neck like that contact wasn't enough and he meant to bite through it. It was so good to feel the scrape of his dark goatee moving down her neck, over her collarbone, his tongue pressing against the softness of her skin like a spear. His entire body was hard and fevered above hers, every part of him in need of every part of her as he pulled them, squeezed them, constricting them closer together with the power of a big snake. His rigid cock made its demands known, thumping and thrumming where it was trapped between each of their thighs, the denim encasing it and the organza and tulle that covered it's ridge like outline not enough barrier to conceal the way it twitched and hammered against Joss's form. She moaned and tried to move closer, wanting so badly to guide him into the place that cried and screamed for such a touch despite the obstruction of their clothing. But Tig held her firmly, not letting her entice him in the manner Joss burned to, but he didn't pull away from her, he couldn't. His lips and tongue were buried in the valley between her cleavage; his teeth suddenly on point, forced against the swell of her breast that was nearly falling out of the halter style bodice and her man shuddered again, shuddered hard, and froze there above her, holding his breath, bracing himself, containing something Joss knew the feel of well. Tig was doing his best to stop, to halt the force he'd felt close to detonating, and it was obvious that doing so gave him considerable discomfort; Joss should have respected that, but she couldn't, she just couldn't, she wanted her man, needed him like nothing else, and she almost had him.

Joss's free hand moved over the expanse of his back, rubbing sumptuously, trying to encourage him to continue, to take what he needed from her, to give her what she wanted so badly, but Tig shook her attempts off, grunting his disapproval as he left the place he'd nearly dug canines into and instead lowered his head over her heart, resting, hunching forward against her on the bike, still breathing deeply.

"We gotta stop," he told her, but didn't move, just stayed where he was like he wasn't ready to not feel her beneath him like this despite what he was saying. "Jesus Christ, that thing that comes over us…" he was saying, or trying to, because Joss could feel the position of his head shifting to where he could still press his lips and tongue and teeth into the soft, white flesh of her bodice cinched breasts. "I still don't know what it is, but it's been gone awhile…for too damn long, but now it's back…and I can't fucking stop it…" he sounded half swept away and half irritated, kissing her skin and sucking it red in places, one of his hands making itself known as his fingers snuck under her layers of skirt and wrapped around her thigh, making Joss moan and try to shove herself more against him. Tig moaned and bellowed back, but there was a note of pitiful agony carried upon it. "God damn it," he ground out, but still didn't move, never once stopped kissing her skin, his fingers kneading the supple flesh of her inner thigh, Joss trying so hard not to thrash or buck, but oh God did she want his touch just a little further up her leg, just a little more beneath the skirt…just a little deeper…just a touch…one stroke…oh God. She closed her eyes, feeling her spine contort against the padded seat of Tig's bike, realizing she was lifting her hips into him, so focused on how to win the caress of his fingertips that she hadn't even noticed he'd raised up above her again until he kissed her, sucking at her upper lip, then her lower one before his tongue mounted hers and he growled into her mouth, but tore away far too soon, his hand tearing out from beneath her skirt…no…Joss shifted, trying to win back the invasion…please…just one touch…just a little deeper. But Tig shook his head at her, still out of breath and still trying to find his way back to the surface. "What are you doin' to me, little girl?" He asked, but his words weren't spiked with the annoyance at his powerlessness the way he'd planned.

But Joss had no answer, her hands refusing to break contact with the feel of his body, her palms moving under the black fabric of his shirt again as soon as Tig pulled her into an upright position, her palms pressing hard and hungry over his broad shoulders. "Take me home," she whispered to him, her eyes only half open, so enwrapped in the familiar spell and not willing to try to shake it off. She wanted her man…all that had been pushing them apart had been vanquished, including her upset body. "Or to one of the dorms, I don't care. Please!"

Tig's eyes closed and he shook his head like it was some unpracticed action. "You know we can't." He said as if reminding her, but he kissed her again, unable to stay away, his lips moving quickly over hers until Joss nipped back at his, winning a deeper kiss from him than the well controlled osculation he'd doled out.

"Yes we can," she argued though she tried so hard to never lose contact with his mouth, tried to kiss him even as she spoke, words vibrating against both their sensitive lips, lulling them back in one more time, and their tongues met outside of their mouths a second before another, deep kiss masked the touch and taste. Tig shifted from her mouth to her neck, mustache and goatee working there as well as did his lips and tongue. "I'll be okay," Joss whispered. "It's alright."

Tig moved away from her again and he shook his head; he couldn't stop, but he also couldn't continue. "You don't know that." He warned her, his eyes begging her to stop talking him into this; he had very few "no's" left within his arsenal. "The docs said six weeks."

Joss regained some sense of control, enough to smile faintly now and look up at her man, his lucid, blue eyes dilated, his mouth as kiss-red as she could feel hers was, his big chest crashing in and out with every breath. "But I do know," she assured him, realizing now that she'd never told him this before, it would have meant the unraveling of the secret she'd kept from everyone, but now…there were no more secrets…Tig should know this, it would help him understand, it would put his mind at ease and give strength to his decree that she was to believe and remember that he was the only man who had ever fucked her. In a legitimate way, he had been her first. Joss smiled; her heart pounding in anticipation of how close she knew they'd be in a moment, no matter what Tig allowed himself to do to her. "It had only been nine days after surgery the first time you ever fucked me, and I was ok—"

But the moment was cut short, the spell over them going cold at the sound of another engine pulling up beside them, and then a voice that for Joss, and likely Tig as well, would never be anything less than parental. "So, how you wanna do this, chief?" Asked Clay as the distance slowly increased between she and Tig as her man turned towards Clay. The noise of four hundred bikes was becoming more and more deafening, taking on its own persona under the blackening sky. Everyone was ready.

Tig gave Joss one last glance, telling her he'd heard what she'd said, letting her know they'd get back to that as soon as they could, but then his attention shifted to Clay and all the other charters waiting like a pack of wolves at Tig's command. "SAMCRO rolls out first, you on my right, Hap on the left," Tig began, turning around on his bike and slipped on the yellow lenses of his night glasses, the darkness of the approaching storm making shades unnecessary. "All the others assume their usual formation, and head out in the order of each chapter's date of inception, oldest first, newbies last."

"Alright," Clay smiled proudly, nodding his head, clearly happy that his choice to succeed him needed no reminding of what the standard protocol was for any large gathering of various charters. "You're doin' good," he told Tig and tried not to smile as broadly as Joss could tell Clay wanted to, but it felt so good to hear her man declaring how things were to be and to then hear him being praised for his choice of orders.

Tig nodded, Joss feeling how Clay's words sank into him and made him feel suddenly lighter. "Thanks," her man readily said without fighting the gratitude he felt. "Gemma not coming?" He asked, noticing Clay was riding solo.

Clay laughed. "You think they'd make a five hundred dollar dress that she could move around enough in to get on a bike with." He said, and Joss smiled. Gemma…the queen had looked beautiful, so gorgeous, but that pencil skirt…yeah, Gemma wasn't climbing onto the back of any bike today. Gemma…Joss still had to talk to her…in fact, she wanted to! The only mother she'd ever had was finally there to watch her marry the man of her dreams…wow, so that's how that was supposed to feel?

"And you, Joss," Clay cocked his head and looked at her where she'd unknowingly buried the side of her face against Tig's cut, nuzzling the reaper there as she held onto Tig's strong shoulders. She'd thought she'd seen Clay at his proudest at her first wedding, the one where she'd even seen a tear in his eye and heard his voice fall short with emotion as he told her how he trusted Tig with many things, but she was the most precious. But that was nothing compared to now, the emotion still there in the king's face and voice, but his belief in her as the future queen pushing away any weakness. "Don't matter what dress you're wearing, sweetheart. You're always a beautiful bride," he told her and Joss smiled, but she knew there would be more and she prayed it wouldn't make her cry, but it probably would; she loved Clay. "Tig's right," Clay said, words building that Joss could tell Clay had longed to say, and was so thankful that she and Tig had finally given him reason to. "Future king's got some considerable power behind his throne."

Yup, Joss shook her head but wasn't able to do more, too much of a quiver in her lower lip and her eyes going glassy. She smiled at Clay through it, knowing he understood, and she lay her head against Tig's cut again, so happy, feeling how right everything finally was…well…almost everything…their boy…Tig hadn't mentioned him, of course, he had not had a chance to what with them at the mercy of their need for each other, but what about the funeral? For the first time since Tig had suggested having one, Joss realized she'd thought the words "boy" and "funeral" without shriveling inwardly. Yeah, she was strong…the power behind Tig's throne.

"I'll go get the word about where you want everybody," Clay offered with a nod towards the rest of the SOA brethren, taking his feet from the ground and turning his bike around. "See ya on the road, brother."

"Clay!" Tig called before the king had pulled away, Clay stopping again and looking back, awaiting Tig's next decree; how could anything so odd feel so right? But it did, because Tig would be calling all the shots one day…Opie wouldn't be there, but Joss would be, however Tig needed her to be. Tig turned and gave Joss a nod that she didn't understand, but he was acknowledging something, trying to communicate that whatever it was, it would be alright then turned back to Clay. "Joss and I are going to peel off to the west once we're out of town," Tig informed him, Joss trying to place where they were headed, there wasn't much to the west of town, just farmland and logging camps and…and…Evermore! Clay seemed to understand, nodding even before Tig continued. "You lead everyone back here; let 'em party. We'll be a little late."

Author's Note: Thanks again for reading! And to those of you who choose to review, you already know you're my angels, and don't ever think you fail to leave me smiling! Thank you! Sorry to be messing with my normal posting schedule, it's been a weird week. Hope to have Chapter 63 up tomorrow for you!

To buddhababy: Wow, interesting comparison! Thank you, and if you think about what "TRHPS" did for audiences during the sexual revolution of the 1970's, you might see why you're reminded of it in this story.

And one last question to all, just because I'm curious. I already know what I'm going to do, but maybe, just maybe hearing from you could take me down some different, yet terrific road, the way it so often does. So, here it is: Do you want Opie to be part of Tig's SAMCRO? And if you do, do you think that his coming back should hold him to having to kill Joss when Tig dies, so that Tijo will never be parted? Looking forward to hearing your thoughts and also possibly being able to grant some wishes, if there are any! Thanks again, hope you enjoyed the chapter! - Grace


	63. Dust to Dust

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 63

Evermore was just as stalwart and silent as it was the first time Tig had brought Joss here, only this time it's only visitors were he and Joss…and their boy. Tig carried their son in his little plastic container that had now been dressed in a velour, purple pouch type of bag, pulled tight and tied closed with gold, satin cording. The three of them moved through the trees, Tig holding their boy in one hand and clutching his wife's fingers in the other. He'd been fearful of this moment all day, even when he'd arrived here alone earlier with the shovel to open the earth. It hadn't taken long to dig the grave, it didn't have to be very big, and afterwards Tig had freed one of the old, lavishly decorated, granite benches from the overgrowth and heaved it beside the hole that he'd dug, leaving the ornately carved wings of angels and faces of cherubs to pray over the final resting place of his boy until he returned, with Joss, and their son.

He'd imagined having to yank hard on her hand and drag Joss through these trees and into the old cemetery, had heard her crying and screaming so clearly in his mind, begging him to not force her to do this, stubbornly alleging that she "couldn't" do it, that she didn't have the right pieces in her for it…and always when Tig thought of how tragic this would be he could feel a large stick in his hand, ready to fend off the spider monkey. But none of that was happening; the only delay in Joss's stride was due to how much taller Tig was than her, making her have to take two steps for every one of his, but it was always like that, she wasn't stalling or trying to pull away. No, she was quiet, but she walked along beside him…and their boy…her hand in his, holding tightly, like she'd go with him wherever he lead her and didn't want him to ever let go. He wouldn't.

Joss's skirt dredged along the fallen leaves and dried twigs, the debris being swept up in the ruffles, staining the heavenly white of her wedding dress with the earthy tones of this farewell. It was getting a little harder to see now in the trees, the storm still threatening but holding off, like it was waiting for some precise moment to strike, keeping the sun hostage behind the gray-black visage of coming tear drops. But onward they walked, Joss gathering her veil around in front of her where she could collect it all in one hand and hold it away from the branches that continuously grabbed for it. Tig felt himself laugh as he watched her…"there's a stick in my hair;" hadn't that been what she'd so fretfully cried out the first time they'd walked this overgrown path together? But Joss wasn't fretful now, she wasn't freaking out over anything; she was accepting this and more than even that, she was here to be part of it, really and truly here.

The wind rustled through the woods, stirring dead leaves around them in some tornadic welcome, blowing through the crookedly hanging double doors of Evermore itself that hadn't been properly secured at their last visit. The old hinges creaked, the doors themselves harkening towards Tig and Joss on the wind as if reaching out to them like they were old friends. Yeah, Tig supposed they were. But they had no need to go inside today, they only needed what remained of Evermore's churchyard. Tig stopped to get a better grip on Joss's arm and help her to climb over the crumbling stone cemetery wall as she grabbed and lifted the skirt of her wedding dress with her other hand. She was still quiet, hadn't said anything, but Tig knew she was at home here and at some unspeakable peace with this also. She should be though; he'd carefully chosen this site to lay their son to rest. Joss had told him on the night of their wedding here that this was "the place," the place where she wished to lie in the earth with him, disintegrating into one another until they were the same dust. He glanced down at the small, velour, draped container, their child silently dormant inside…the same dust…this was "the place," and that's just what Tig was going to give her. Their boy would settle the ground for them and he'd sleep, until his father and mother came to join him.

It was easy to see who the more prominent families in Charming had always been. The tallest, heaviest granite monuments had survived the years the best, names like "Oswald" and "Hale" still readable upon their obelisques and on the scrolls held by towering angels. Other stones were chipped, pushed over or completely lost beneath nature's reclamation. There were so many briars and brambles and fallen leaves and branches that it wasn't easy to read all the names on all the headstones that did survive, their granite faces scoured by rain and bleached by rays of sun, the shifting of the earth that held them leaving them cracked and split and raggedly balanced along the ground, their once straight rows and family plots rearranged. It had taken Tig longer to navigate through the maze this graveyard had become than it had for him to dig out a place for his boy, and it had been so important to him that wherever he did lay his son, that there were decent, strong, headstones nearby in defiantly good stature, but not kept so by the ostentatious mass and bulk like those that bore the names of Charming's elite. And he'd found one such stone, among the masses of late Victorian era graves, many of them adorned with deeply tarnished oval frames, set right into the granite, holding now decrepit photographs and tin-types of the person that lay beneath them, though the glass containing the images was smeared black with weather and time, but here and there a face remained visible, still eyes watching as he lead Joss to this place he'd found.

There was one stone here, not quite so withered or beaten down by the centuries that had passed over it, the encased photograph of a seated young woman barely visible within her cameo like border, but it wasn't her picture that had made Tig choose her to be his son's caretaker until he and Joss returned for him. Her name had been Lena Illini, she'd died at the age of nineteen, a raven perched upon a mask and an angel graced the upper edges of her tombstone, but it hadn't been any of these things that had impressed Tig. It was the poem inscribed below her picture, the lettering outstandingly crisp.

May God and his angels protect and keep you,

may cruelest passions never seek you.

Be not stubborn or reserved

but determined and loyal, as always deserved.

Tig wasn't sure what that all meant, he didn't speak Victorian, but he liked the notions of "being not reserved" and of "determination" and "loyalty" being "deserved," and he wanted his boy to rest as closely to those things as he could. And there was the hole he'd opened, about a foot and a half to the right of the Lena's grave, a mound of rich soil beside it and the old, granite bench still there, awaiting a visitor. The little container he carried suddenly felt so heavy, this would the last time he'd ever hold it. He extended his arm out across Joss's body, letting her know to stop walking, that they'd arrived, and when he looked back at her, she was looking up at him, her pretty, green eyes rounded with an innocence born out of uncertainty. She had questions; Tig could see them through the paleness of her skin and the fluttering blink of her lovely, black lashes, even if Joss herself didn't yet know they were there.

"You can sit," he told her and cast a glance towards the old bench, but his voice didn't sound like it usually did, not even the words felt right in his mouth, like when he spoke he'd done so in the wrong language.

But Joss's hand threaded back into his and she shook her head. "You're not." She told him, "I'll stand, with you." She sighed unevenly as Tig's upper body jerked in her direction, stunned…and touched at what she'd said, what she was doing, or trying to do, even though it was obvious his sweet, dark, perfect angel grabbed and grasped for any foothold she could find in this new and jagged mountain of emotions.

She wavered a little, but she never backed down, she didn't even look away from that hole in the ground, but Tig could see the way she trembled a little, like she was cold…and she may have been with the wind and the coming storm in the sleeveless dress she wore, but it wasn't all the temperature that made her shoulders quake like that. Something was building inside her, something Joss had no understanding of. She breathed deeply, but flatly, like her chest, her heart, was far too heavy to allow the sustenance of the air around them. There were no tears though, only this quiet chaos of looking for something to feel that felt right, while behind it all, Tig could tell that she was already feeling it. He didn't need for her to weep like a pleurant or throw herself down upon the mound of dirt once their son lay buried; he didn't even need for her to recognize that she was feeling what she should be feeling. How could she? No one had ever felt those things for her when she'd been a child; there'd been nothing unconditional in the "love" her shithole father had for her, but something was still coming in her, growing in intensity. 'Pleurant'…Tig sighed, at the oddest times words like "pleurant" and "oubliette" popped forth in his mind, decadent reminders that he'd graduated from college another life or so ago. But it was good to remember that now; Joss stood with him, splintering into emotions that she couldn't comprehend, she was a good girl, she'd look to her old man's intelligence to put them into order for her so that one day, she could understand them herself. But that time wasn't now, she had to give it all free range, let it collide and congeal within her, no matter how it might hurt her. Sometimes pain was a good thing; sometimes it was the best way to cleanse a soul.

"Joss, you okay?" Tig asked, his hand on her back, fingers gently rubbing small, comforting circles into her bare skin, letting her stand as close to him as she wanted to. "Because it's alright if you're not."

She closed her eyes a moment like maybe there were tears behind them, but still nothing came, she only swallowed hard and tried to take another deep breath. "I'm fine," she choked on the words a bit, her throat obviously tight and her next breath shuddered its way into her chest, the wind blowing her veil nearly back over her face. "Just, go on…do it." Her hand shook as she waved it over the open grave.

Chapter 63; Part 2

She was strong…she was strong…she kept repeating the words to herself, but she didn't feel strong. This trek through the woods had begun with the kindergarten-like solemnest of two kids going to bury the little sparrow they'd tried to nurse back from broken wings, nothing truly lost on a personal level, but respect for the life that had come to an end most certainly due. But this was no longer such a glancing blow and it had seemed to have swept up out of nowhere.

The ground seemed to be rumbling beneath her feet, like it was about to open up and consume Joss's whole world. Tig was crouched over the grave, holding the purple, velour bag, talking softly to it like she'd seen him doing before when that little container had resided in their freezer. Repulsion was the sentiment Joss was most familiar with whenever she caught him doing that, startling and horrific memories flooding her senses, but they weren't there now, and without them, as awful as they were to feel, Joss felt like she was floundering, drowning in a strange, stormy ocean. She watched her man lowering their boy into the earth, and she felt herself dropping lower and lower too, sinking into the depths of Evermore without the strength to claw her way back out. And then she and that container both hit bottom, a soundless drop into darkness and finality, Tig reaching for a handful of deep, dark soil, letting it fall slowly over the purple velour, barely covering it, but he took up another handful, Joss's eyes wide, unable to look away from what she could still see of the regal looking pouch, it's golden strings still so neatly tied, the rim of the container creasing the velour…their boy inside, laying there with his blood red skin and needle like fingers, reaching out to her.

Her boy…her child…some tiny, barely tangible part of herself, the only part of her never touched by the evil she'd grown up with that had grown into her. Her boy…her child…the only part of her that was left to walk in the sunlight without a care, the only part of herself with the strength to look beyond her tragedies and madness and love her in spite of them all. The only chance she'd ever had to give the child, that Joss at times felt she inevitably still was, the life and love it deserved was disappearing under handfuls of dirt, locked in that little container…reaching out to her. 

"No!" It was a groan, shaking her chest as she wailed it, Joss crashing to her knees in the twigs, branches and fallen leaves, tears exploding down her cheeks, both her hands immersed in the soil that now completely blanketed the purple velour pouch, the golden satin cording, the container, and her child. She wasn't exactly sure of what she was doing, even as she watched herself doing it, her hands squeezing up big clumps of the dirt, brushing them away from what they concealed with a fury, Tig fighting to make her stop it, finally catching both her digging hands and instantly in front her, pinning the backs of her filthy hands to her bare shoulders. Thunder cracked open the sky with unapologetic boisterousness and the rain suddenly charged down like an invading force. And Joss cried…cried from her heart, cried for the heir she'd never be able to give Tig, cried for how she couldn't make her child be a raccoon, cried for how she couldn't feel this until now, when it was far too late to matter; cried from the broken parts of her that she knew she'd never be able to fix. "I want him back!" Someone kept saying, their voice a hyperventilating shout drowned in tears, and she knew it wasn't Tig's.

"Hey," Tig was speaking loudly but he wasn't yelling at her the way he should have been as she displayed this new of kind of crazy that neither one of them knew lurked within her. The rain drenched them in no time, dripping from the tips of their noses, plastering down their hair, but neither one noticed. Tig's grip on her was steady, but not desperate, not like when he had to suppress the beast, but he just held her, bringing her against him and hugging her as Joss sobbed, his hand cupping the back of her head with no concern of how she might tear open his throat. "Joss, stop, that's not what this is," he was calmly telling her, and she was hearing him, feeling the safety of his body and fearless embrace…maybe this wasn't some new kind of crazy after all? "C'mon," he encouraged softly, feeling her begin to quiet down as Joss slowly began to realize that she had stopped crying so madly. Tig looked at her with compassion, the sad unity of their combined grief reflected in his eyes, but seeing it there and knowing she was part of it with him felt…good. "He's not gone," he told her, the rain and now his fingers gingerly stroking over her face. "He's not gone, baby. He's just here."

The rain hammered around them, creating little streams that ran beneath the carpet of leaves, flooding around them both, but Joss's tears no longer fell. Her child wasn't gone? She drew a breath and looked at Tig, also on his knees, one hand still on her back and the other still caressing her cheek, pleading with her to believe him, to understand what he was telling her, trying so hard to pull her back from the depths that had almost pulled her under. Joss wanted to speak, but couldn't, too many things still jumbled inside her head, all looking for some place to be that felt right.

"You hear me, Joss?" Tig was asking, breathing like he'd just heaved her limp body from some deep, dark pit she'd tripped and fallen into. "He's not gone, he's just here. It's okay. You gettin' me?"

Finally she nodded; a blast of wind blowing her back to herself and she looked around, the trees still above her, headstones still around her, the dingy, stucco walls of the church she'd married Tig in before her. And Tig was there, still holding her, not allowing her to disappear into the bleakness that overwhelmed her so suddenly. "Yes," she opened her mouth and the word actually came out, Tig kissing her softly and quickly then sighing in relief, Joss knowing she was alright now for sure. But…oh God…what had she done? The grave, once nearly filled in, was only half so now, her hands caked with mud, enough dirt under her nails to remind her of that little break for some time to come. Oh God…what an awful thing to have to done to Tig…and their child! "I'm so sorry!" Joss clamored, fighting the urge to sniffle and cry again, Tig wouldn't want her to, he'd just put down one tearful fit.

"It's okay, don't be," he said quietly, his eyes still holding hers as he tried to brush the dangling bits of dripping black and red tendrils out of her face. "You're okay, baby. You got me, and I got you, and we'll always have him." He told her, looking over his shoulder at the grave, then pulled her close again and hugged her, tightly, then even tighter. The rain was lessening, leaving the ground renewed and the walls of Evermore and the faces of headstones cleansed by its fury.

"I love you," Joss whispered against Tig's chest, and one more time told herself she was strong…and she was.

"I know," he whispered back and pressed a kiss to her wet hair. "You love a lot of things." He added, but kissed her mouth before Joss had time to think about what he meant. But he was right…she did…the dirt under her fingernails was proof of that.

Her lips slid from his in a quiet and calm manner and Joss rested her head against his broad, strong shoulder, so safe in his arms, but something pulled at her, she had to fix the grave, she had to have her moment to speak softly to their boy. "Tig," she said and moved away from him enough to look up at him, wanting to show him that she really was okay, to let him see that in her eyes. "Is it okay if I…if I…could I have some time alone…with him?"

Tig looked down at her, scrutinizing her. "You sure?" He asked, but it wasn't out of fear that she'd try to un-burry their child again, but more that he felt badly not being by her side.

"Yes," Joss answered with a strong and steady voice.

"Okay." He granted with an understanding nod, getting to his feet and taking her with him as he rose, for a moment standing there with his arm still around her shoulders, dripping wet and looking down at the place their child would forever remain…awaiting the reunion with his father and mother. They both stared down at the little half-filled hole in the muddy ground, the same mud all over the knees of Tig's jeans and all over the white ruffles of Joss's dress. "He needs a name," Tig said, still looking down at the grave, but despite how he'd had no problems in securing monikers for three little raccoons, he made no suggestions for their boy.

But Joss looked away from the grave, smiling faintly up at her man, the future king, standing here holding his wife and future queen. She knew what their son's name was, no one could ever disagree. She took her man's hand, giving it a squeeze then smiled a bit more…their child…their boy…their prince. Joss nodded to herself, Tig looking down at her curiously, and Joss finally spoke, like a queen. "Royal."

Author's Note: Thanks again for reading and for reviewing! Every chapter that you read and like, or take something away from, is due to the help, appreciation and graciousness of everyone who chooses to leave a review!(I apologize for not having read the most recent reviews yet for Chapter 62. I've been so busy this week and I chose to work on this chapter and read the reviews later tonight…even if it is killing me to have to wait!) Again, I thank those of you who do review for making this story what it is!

Special thanks to Lena Illini (whom I no way want dead!lol) for joing my "cast!" She'd given me the words PROTECTIVE, PASSIONATE, STUBBORN, RESERVED, DETERMINED and LOYAL to work around her "character" and I can only hope that I have done her proud! Thank you, Lena, for being what turned out to be such a valuable piece of this chapter! 


	64. Bumming a Smoke

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 64

The sun was out now, shining down in apology of the mess and muck caused by the heavy rain, drying the seat of Tig's bike and his damp clothing and hair, but the mud still remained all over the knees of his jeans and his hands and had completely changed the look of Joss's once white wedding dress. She was more covered in mud than he was, she'd been so much deeper into it than he'd gotten. It even streaked her face in faint hues where tears had cut through what had splashed against her cheekbones as she'd dug and dug and dug, faster than Tig could stop her. It stained her forehead where the back of her muddy hand had passed in an effort to contain tears. He'd known it was coming, he'd known what was in the girl, that one day she'd realize all that she was losing after it was already lost, and the misery would sweep over her like wild fire. And it had, there Joss sat at graveside, her white dress of ruffles and lace singed with earth. There was no way she'd be going to that party looking like that; she already wasn't too keen on that dress, and having to wear it sopping and drenched and slapped with mud would do little to improve that opinion. He felt sticky and sweaty, though he wasn't perspiring, and Joss had to feel the same way herself. When she was through sitting there, on the carved, granite bench that Tig had secured beside their boy's grave, he'd drive them both home, let them both wash up and change clothes, Joss would feel better once she did. Besides, Joss didn't have her patch, and he knew she'd want it more than ever.

Other than that, she was doing so well with this, recovered from her dark moment that Tig knew she'd interpreted as the emergence of some other kind of "monkey;" but it wasn't that, it was just grief, two years worth of it hitting the girl all at once, but she'd come through it like a champ…no, not like a 'champ,' like a queen. Joss…that damn girl really was perfect…she'd somehow managed to find those pieces of herself Tig had told her he knew were inside of her, and once she had, she'd put them all on display, and they still were there on the surface. It had only been a few minutes, but it seemed like he'd been watching her gather her peace for a good hour or so, though he of course didn't mind. Why would he? What father could turn away from the picture of his wife nurturing their child? Tig had been standing back here, about fifteen yards away by his bike, watching Joss gently moving dirt over their boy's grave and singing, or humming to him as she did. And now she sat there on the bench, wet tufts of wedding dress ruffles, stained with deep, rich soil, sticking out like plumage as shafts of sunlight reached her through the trees, making her form seem to glow among the headstones that surrounded her and their boy. She was an angel…she certainly looked it now…but Tig wasn't surprised, he'd always known what she was, and he'd stand here and think how lucky he was to be looking at it for as long as he could. He loved that damn girl, the mother of his son…and right now, he couldn't even hate that he did.

But the moment didn't last long enough, the always protective and quick to fight part of him picking up the distant rumble of another dyna headed his and Joss's way. It was difficult to take his eyes from his beautiful, sweet, perfect, dark angel, but Tig did, briefly glancing down the overgrown path that lead to Evermore, wondering who in hell would dare to come out here after them. Clay would have kept everyone away; somehow the old king knew why Tig was heading west out of town, though Tig had said nothing to him. But someone was coming, and not being very quiet about it either.

Joss was turned around now too, looking over her shoulder towards the noise then looking to Tig, also wondering why anyone would be coming out here, and she didn't look like she wanted whatever that interruption might be. The bike was closer now, the noise louder, Joss got to her feet, and it broke Tig's heart to see it. She wasn't ready to leave yet; he could tell that by the way her chin was slowly turning, back towards the grave like she'd left something behind. She needed more time. His fingers pressed to the handle of his knife, not sure if a threat was coming, but anything pulling Joss away from where Tig knew she needed to be would be dealt with just as severely. "Stay there," Tig called to her and waited for her to sit back down on the bench before he walked off towards the path and whoever was stupid enough to be driving down it. Jax…Tig just bet it was Jax…Jax had missed both weddings, and the hippy-dippy prom queen just couldn't leave town without at least trying to talk his baby "sister" out of what she'd gotten herself into this time…Jax…Jesus Christ…whatta waste of balls!

But by the time he reached the path the engine cut off, another big FXR was sitting about twenty some feet from his own, the driver's head down, but the bushy, brown beard still evident as he pulled at his helmet strap, long, straight, brown hair appearing over his big shoulders…bushy beard, long, brown hair…Chewbadooba! Tig stood frozen a moment, like keeping himself in check, scanning a list of things he wasn't going to do here and now like run towards Ope or even take his hand off of his knife. But Ope was back! Wasn't he? Or was this his last attempt to win Joss over and get her to leave town with him and Jax? Tig's fingers curled around his knife handle…hoping it wouldn't come to that. Shit…c'mon, Ope…be back!

Opie pulled off his shades and winced at finding Tig standing only five feet away; Opie's startled response spreading to Tig who also felt himself suddenly react with a backwards heave and a short exhale, looking at Ope and Ope looking back at him like there was some esoteric greeting custom that neither one had practiced enough to perform. Jesus, it felt like Ope had been gone for years, and it had only been a few hours really…if Ope had truly been "gone" at all…but why would he show up at Evermore, after having missed the wedding? Didn't he fear any repercussions for doing that? And why'd he come to Evermore? All these questions and speculations weren't doing much for Tig's usually sharper-than-a-knife-blade sense of brotherhood. For all Tig's hopes that Ope wasn't truly gone, he'd never thought about what it would be like if Ope were to return…but somebody had to do something, namely figure out if Ope really was back! Tig was going to be king one day, and God damn it, kings didn't stand around dumbfounded!

"It's Saturday. You're a little early for Sunday service," Tig said smartly, crossing his arms over his chest and hoping he looked more imposing than he felt. He needed Ope…the club needed Ope…Joss needed Ope…Ope had to have come back, he just had to have!

Ope sighed as he glanced at Evermore's abandoned hull. "That depends how you look at things." He said, muttered really, his bearded chin practically on his big chest, still sitting there on his bike, trying to formulate what his next words should be, even though Tig could tell they were somehow disagreeable to say, and then they seemed to just go away, Ope's head lifting and his eyes looking Tig over. "You get caught in the storm?" He asked; pointing to the mud that made Tig's wet clothing all the more noticeable.

Tig's hand went to the back of his neck, wondering how to answer that question, he didn't want to share any news about Joss, that would be going against what he was striving to do for Ope concerning getting him out of love with her. "Something like that," Tig finally replied, but it sounded like he was hiding something even to him, and he got a little pissed, with himself and everything else. God damn it, Ope…why did everything around the guy have to be so fucking complicated? "Where the hell were you today?" Tig grunted shortly, but hope coursed through him like a lightning strike, but he remained stoic. That was an awesome question that might force Ope into revealing whether he'd left, but come back, or was still leaving or…or…whatever…Tig only just now realizing that he may not like the answer still.

Ope sighed, looking down again, his big hands pushing his upper body upright against his thighs like he was physically bolstering himself to say…God damn it, why didn't he just fucking say it? Tig nearly lurched towards him at the low, baritone slur of Ope's voice as he prepared to form words, but Ope still didn't look up. "I know what you're going to say, and you have every right to, but…" now Opie raised his stare to meet Tig's, but Ope's eyes shifted, like he was looking back at the thoughts in his own head. "I just didn't have another wedding in me, couldn't watch it happen again."

What a sap…inwardly Tig sighed and growled and then growled again, steadying it all before he spoke, not wanting to come down too hard on Ope, but it was so fucking frustrating that nothing Tig did or could think of doing seemed to separate Ope from his feelings for Joss. Damn it…but now wasn't the time to be getting into it…he needed Ope back, kicking his ass wasn't going to win him that. "I guess I can understand that," Tig said, but there was no sympathy in the words, none at all, they rang with the banging, clink of a hinged gate, locking Opie out of what Tig and Joss had. And then there was nothing said, just a few seconds of awkward silence while Ope dug for his cigarettes, finding them, sliding one out for himself and then tilting the pack Tig's way before he returned it to the inside pocket of his cut. Tig stared at those cigarettes…he'd seen cigarettes before, he was very familiar with cigarettes…but these weren't cigarettes that Ope was offering him.

Against his better judgment, Tig reached out, grabbing one cigarette from Opie's pack, watching Ope carefully, and then Tig saw it, just as he'd put the filtered tip to his mouth, Ope's expression changed, he sat a little more forward, looking more confident now as if some new wisdom had been bestowed upon him…and it had been…God damn it…yeah, this definitely wasn't a cigarette! Not taking it would have meant being disagreeable, inflexible, unwilling to talk about shit…but taking it…fuck…Ope never used to do shit like this, when'd he start being so damn astute?

Ope leaned back a bit, looking more relaxed, like he'd figured Tig out at bit and Tig hated it, cramming the cigarette, that he'd accepted from Ope, behind his ear instead of lighting it up, hoping that conveyed…something. But Ope was already settled, knew his course and wasn't afraid to ask the question Tig was so tired of answering. "How's Joss?"

"What the fuck you doing out here, Ope?" It wasn't a question as much as it was a sword slicing through Ope's inquiry, but yeah, Tig still wanted to know.

Ope shrugged like he was trying to make this sound more casual than it was going to, lighting up his cigarette and taking a puff. "Didn't see you at the clubhouse, something told me this was where I could find you." But it sounded like he was hiding something, like Ope had some 'connection' somewhere that supplied with info.

"Why you lookin'?" Tig demanded next, but hope sprang eternal that Ope had come to say he wasn't taking up with Jax, that he wasn't leaving SAMCRO, or Tig…but seriously…what in hell had "told" Ope he could find Tig here?

Ope flicked ash from his cigarette then took another long drag, his attention drawn to something veiled by the trees in the vicinity of the churchyard. Joss, she was visible through the trees, the parts of her dress that were still white glaring through the leaves and twigs and branches as she sat there on that bench, overlooking their boy's grave…and Opie raised his hand right up and then pointed towards Tig's dark, sweet, perfect angel. "Can I talk to her?"

Didn't that just figure? Ope's presence had nothing to do with Tig or SAMCRO; it was all about Ope's damnable love for Joss…God damn it! Fuck! Damn cigarette! Tig had accepted it, he'd taken something from Ope…and now Ope was looking for something in return. Jesus fucking Christ! This wasn't happening…no way…he was probably only here to tell Joss 'goodbye'…and Tig wasn't going to let him. If Ope was leaving, then he could carry that regret with him for the rest of his fucking life! The rest of Ope's life…on the road with Jax…marked as a traitor, as a deserter…as one whom brotherhood meant nothing to…shit…fuck…but it did, Tig knew it did…Ope was a good guy, and damn it, he deserved better than to have that reputation assigned to him. Didn't he know what he was doing? There were mistakes in this life, and then there were mistakes…that was a big one…it wouldn't be just SAMCRO hunting him down; it would be every one-percenter in the world! God fucking damn it, Ope…talk to Joss? Talk to Joss? Tig felt his back and shoulders pulling tight and sharp, biceps flexed, arms raised and a punch at the ready. He was going to savagely deny Ope's request to speak to Joss, but already Tig knew other things would rush out of his mouth as soon as he opened it. "You are not walkin' out on your club, Ope! You are not giving your brothers the finger like that! God damn it, son! I know things ain't been easy, but we love you and there's no way in hell—"

"Tig!" Ope's voice was louder than Tig's, putting an end to the tirade Tig was swiftly rattling off, Tig suddenly quiet, caught off guard and curious, squinting as he looked more at Opie, trying to read what was in his eyes, impressed with all the torment and the torture that creased Ope's face, the way he shook his head in frustrated confusion, like he'd made a decision that he still wasn't comfortable with, but was trying to be…if he could only get a little help with doing so. "Look, there's a lotta things I gotta say to a lotta people; you're definitely one of them." Ope said levelly, not to be interrupted or questioned any further, his only hinted at distraction being Joss, whom he quickly glanced at through the woods again, then locked eyes with Tig. "But I gotta start with her," he exhaled heavily after he said it, like he was expecting Tig to explode with anger, but Tig didn't, and he wasn't sure why.

Ope turned his eyes up to Tig, respect for what Joss was to Tig and what Tig was to Joss openly afire in them, but Ope's own passion for Joss still lingering, still burning…Ope…and Joss…connection. Joss…she'd been under a lot, taken away from her old man, weddings, surgeries, traumatic memories, walls between herself and Tig, then another wedding…and their boy…shit…who could blame her if she'd had to talk to someone…she had lots of "someone's" she could have opened up to…but she'd apparently chosen Ope. Tig should have been angry, he tried to be, tried to make himself fume, tried to make his own blood boil, tried to turn on his heel and rush back into those woods and belt that damn girl off of that granite bench and keep going at her until she confessed everything…everything…but what was there for her to say that Tig hadn't already figured out? She'd been through hell, and instead of leading her through it and keeping her tucked against him safe and sound like Tig usually did, he'd pushed her further into that arena, alone, made her take up arms and forced her to fight the things that scared and scarred her the most. He had to do that, he didn't regret doing it, but he'd also become something that Joss wasn't able to confide in as soon as he demanded she face her feelings. So she'd talked to Ope…she wouldn't have done more than that and Tig knew it…and she'd known that Ope was leaving the club…what harm could have come from saying a few things to him that would disappear with him?

Or…a rush came over Tig like another lightning flash and he looked off at his sweet, dark, perfect angel again…she was so intelligent, so perfect…she loved her old man so much…what if she'd gone to Ope to not only say the things Tig had made impossible for her to say to her old man, but to also try to win Ope over, to show him that she trusted him enough to confide in him, that she looked to him as some kind of…friend…a friend that she didn't want to lose…a friend that she needed…a friend that her old man needed. She told Ope about their boy, she told him about this funeral…but she told him to make him stay, she told him to make Ope see that he was valuable to her, for the sake of her old man! Jesus Christ…it took Tig's breath away…how much more could he have asked for? Joss was…shit, 'perfect' wasn't enough of a perfect word for her…no one had an old lady like her, no one! This raging, vicious, obsessive thing that bound them was as it should have been; there was nothing she wouldn't do for her old man.

Ope, who'd seemed lost in his own thoughts suddenly reminded Tig of his presence, sighing again as he exhaled, smoke curling and curving like a halo around his head. He was still waiting for an answer, and Tig could tell Ope wasn't about to give up, he had to do what it was he'd come to do…for Joss…and for Tig too. Ope looked up at Tig, no malice, no scheming, nothing not to trust in his eyes and as if the words were now sacred, he repeated his request. "Can I talk to her?"

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading and an extra special thanks to: Sandpiper86 (your cameo is coming! Thanks for always being so enthusiastic with your words!), Dutch'76(more of "you" to come as well! And please know how much I appreciate your insights and the things that let me know matter to you! Wow, you're amazing!), Toia (your words are always so helpful and make me so excited about my work!), Go4ItGirl (love everything you have to say! Thank you for saying it! You push me to higher and higher levels!), Kassey4221(your loyalty is so inspiring! Thank you for every letter of every word!), buddhababy(thanks for putting such thought into things; yes, things have that extra "oomph" I think because the main two characters interpreting this story have instabilities that tend to skew things to extremes. Make sense?:-) Thanks again!), hmc16 (you've always got awesome stuff to say that makes me notice so much about what I'm doing! Thanks for giving me something to build upon! I'd love to return that favor!), LiveFreeDieWell(your cameo is also coming! Thanks for always being much needed voice of reason!) bobgorgefred(good to hear from you again! Thanks for making me think, and there by, broadening my horizons!), AlyKat4Life(you always hit the nail on the head! Thank you! Hope you are getting well!), Bad Company(wow, where would I be without your careful analysis of what it is I'm trying to do? Nowhere, that's where! Thanks ever so much and I hope that things are going well for you, even if they are busy!), 4PawDoc(you've gone the extra mile to make me smile and teach me about what I'm doing, and again, what you give me is invaluable! Here's hoping that you have either caught up with life, or that you're throttling past it!), and Verda Napoli(OMG! So good to hear from you, and I am so ecstatic to have someone like you reading my work! I hope you feel welcome to continue sharing your thoughts, because your review is the kind that keeps me honest, on track and in command! Thank you! And sorry about any nightmares, involving your cousin and Tig that I've )

Also, check out my new avatar! I thought perhaps after reading about them for so long, you might like to actually see "Tijo" together. Thank you all more than I can say here! You really are the best!:-) - Grace


	65. Catching the Bouquet

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 65

She looks like the bride in some horror movie where an evil spirit is channeled into a black haired Barbie doll. She's beautiful though, Joss is always beautiful, even when she's drenched with rain, her hair is frizzed, make-up smudged, skin practically colorless, eyes rimmed with red. Her wedding dress looks like a old scrub rag she wrestled herself into, clinging to her in places it shouldn't, making her seem thinner than she is, sickly even, and the mud that tinges it, her face and her hands, making it seem realistic that maybe she just crawled out of one of these graves herself. The foolish part of me that used to win wants to pick her up and carry her to safety…wherever that is…but I don't do it, even though she's watching me with such poignantly empty eyes, like she's felt all she can feel for one day and wants to hide from it. I could open my arms to her and give her shelter, and I already know that's one thing she'll accept from me…but no, that would be a stupid idea for both of us. Tig's watching…closely.

Joss seems to know where she is and what's going on, though I'm not certain about how well she's holding on. As soon as she saw me walking towards her, she immediately looked to Tig, making sure he was there, and making sure he knew I was where I was…yeah, she was with it, despite how scraggily and demented she appeared. Tig shot her a nod and I saw how she relaxed, but now she looked deflated, her spine making the shape of a "C" as her elbows dug into the dirty taffeta above her knees, both her grimy hands beneath her chin. She'd been crying, I know what that looks like on her, eyeliner all smudged, clouding her white skin with gray and now some streaks of brown from the dirt that's…all over her…Jesus, what the hell were she and Tig doing up here? I had a pretty good idea what it was; there was a small, fresh grave in front of where Joss was sitting; her handprints pressed into the dirt, fanning out, one over another, imprints of her slim, elegant fingers overlapping and splicing here and there, like a quilted blanket placed over a cold, lamented crib. She'd let it slip that Tig was keeping the baby she lost in the…God, I can't imagine…I just can't! No wonder she looks like she's been to hell and back, she likely has been.

There was room on the bench, Joss moving her filthy skirt out of the way, letting me know it was okay to sit there beside her, and I did, encouraged. She could have turned away from me and pretended I wasn't here, refusing to talk to me because she'd already said too much before…when she threw her arms around me and begged me with everything she had not to leave. But maybe she'd forgotten all about that now in the aftermath of whatever had just happened in this cemetery? She looked at me now with zero understanding of my intentions, but there was something hopeful in her green eyes, just like I'd seen in Tig's…was I staying? Was I? That all depended on the box in my pocket and what I did with it here and now. Here and now…where did I start?

I sit down beside her, but I don't look at her, I just let her look at me all she wants to, but I can tell she just doesn't need eyes on her, not if they aren't Tig's. Tig understood where she was, and that it was alright for her to be there, where all I could feel was the massive push to rescue her and keep her some place where she'd never look so pitiful again. Man…maybe I can? When Tig kicks off, Joss is going to be even worse than she is now…she's not normal…she won't last long without him...damn it. I can't do this if I'm thinking like that though, and I look for something that isn't depressing to say to her, not that I really expect I have any chance of lifting her out of the darkness she's in…Joss and darkness…she had a smile like no other girl I'd ever seen, but she and darkness went hand in hand. But still I try to say something good, something she'd want to hear. "I think I liked the black dress better."

I watch peripherally as faint lines score her face at the corners of her mouth and she smiles tightly, but at least she smiled. Yeah, she did…I suddenly remember that the black dress is a bridge she and I have, and I just stepped out onto the middle of it, and slowly, Joss is walking across her side of it to join me. "Me too," she says, but her eyes drift to how much dirt there was all over her hands and she starts trying to get it out from under nails. What the hell? Had she been digging up the ground? I'd like to say I can't imagine that…but…Joss and darkness…a darkness only Tig could ever find her in. This stupid, old church started off mysterious, then began to symbolize some painful memories for me, and now it was just plain creepy …a bride, covered in mud and tears, sitting alone in its cemetery? Yeah, back to that horror movie I'd mentioned…

Joss's expression changes and she looks concerned, the dirt on her hands finally conveying to her how much like shit the rest of her must have looked like, and she leans away from me in the hopes that she can conceal that from me…but I already noticed…and I don't care…she is beautiful, nothing will ever change that. But, it does feel kind of good that she's trying to hide how bad she thinks she looks from me, and then I remember I have a packet of antibacterial WetWipes in the back pocket of my jeans…Kenny…if that kid ever learns that licking his fingers is not a fair substitute for washing his hands, then I'll have been a successful parent. But right now, it's not my son who needs them, and I lean forward enough to grab the little foiled packet out of my pocket, tearing it open and offering it to Joss, but she stares at it, then bulks…and I know why. "It's just to clean up with a little," I tell her, and I smile a little as I do, we sort of have an inside joke here. "Not peanut butter." Or a cigarette…

I hear her restrained laugh before she looks at me, and I'm glad that she's coming out of it…whatever "it" is, and I'm even more pleased when she takes the Wet Wipe from my hand. "I'm sorry, measuring your responsiveness with a jar of Jif was pathetic," she says as she unfolds the damp, white napkin and begins to rub it over her cheeks, white skin appearing below the veil of graveyard dirt.

"No hard feelings," I answer, looking at her full on, because it's safe to do so now, she let me know that…by taking that Wet Wipe…but I think Joss realizes that. "Sorry I wasn't there today." It's easier to say that to her than it was to say it to Tig, but then I guess Joss is less likely to jam a knife in my gut…maybe.

She sighs and looks down at the wreck of a muddy dress she has on. "Yeah, I got all dressed up like a mop for it, and you missed it!" Her smile is delayed, but it appears after whatever thoughts that were in her head ran their course…there's something she wants to ask me, but she doesn't do it…and I already know what it is. I'm getting to that…I really don't want her to have to ask me, but I can't find a way to address it that doesn't seem it's some kind of apology or…pledge of love to her. It can't be that, it can't even seem like it is, and I know that.

I laugh a bit, but keep it subtle. "I doubt it looked like that at the beginning."

She nods but her smile saddens a little, "A lot of things don't look the way they did at the beginning." She tells me, and I watch her lovely, green eyes sweep slowly and endearingly over the small, fresh grave she was pondering when I first saw her through the trees.

I want to put my arm around her and pull her close so badly…God, she needs a shoulder to at least cry on, but I can't be that to her, particularly with Tig's eyes burning holes in my back…but, I want to do something for her, I want to give her somewhere secure to feel that and cry with her if she needs me too…hell…who am I kidding? I already am. Joss…and darkness…and myself, hiding in it, waiting for the moment that she falls down so hard that no one will be able to pick her back up. There's only one way to comfort her, and I think I know how to do it now. "You like this place, don't you?"

Her chin lifts and she looks almost proud, but surprised, and I know why. Only Tig knew that, only Tig would have understood that. "Yes," she says and then looks away from me at the old church where she stood barefoot in dead raccoon, the other headstones, the layers of dead leaves and disintegrating stone walls of the cemetery…but she's not seeing what I see, there's so much more in it for her.

I nod, but I don't know why I continue to try to interpret this, I know what it means and I know why I came here and asked to talk to her. "Favorite spot?" I ask her with a shrug of my shoulders that feels so odd and overdone…Jesus, she's probably able to read the hell out of that…like I was going to suggest picnicking up here at whatever place she chose…yeah, sure.

But she hasn't noticed my obvious body language because her eyes are on the grave again and have been for some time. "There," she answers and her palm passes over the small mound of dirt, consecrating it with the holiness that falls from her soft, white palm.

Okay, I had the information I needed…but didn't want. But I can't stop now, and I reach into my cut, pushing cigarettes aside so I can grab the little matchbox size wrapped gift I've brought her; red ribbon over black paper…just like her hair. "Hey," I said to get her attention, but when she looks at me again, I bow my head down, looking at her, or having those vibrant, green eyes on me a little more than I can bear right now. But I don't freeze up, I can't. "I got you something," and I push it into her hand…knowing she's going to open it next, and I'm trying so hard to dig strength out of somewhere inside of me when she does.

But Joss isn't opening it, she's just looking down at the little present, confused and…touched? "Why did you do that?" She finally asks me, turning it in her hand like she wants to see it from all sides.

Now I have to look back up at her, I can't keep talking to her with my head practically between my knees. "It's your birthday, isn't it?" Jesus…the irony is killing me…

"Wow," It's the brightest sound she's made since I saw her today and it's kind of depressing. "You didn't have to do this, Ope!"

Oh yes I did…but there's nothing I can say anymore…"but I wanted to" sure as hell doesn't fit here. I just go quiet and try not to pay too much attention as Joss's dirt clad fingernails slide beneath the corners of black paper.

Chapter 65; Part 2

A one hundred calorie pack of whole wheat snack crackers? No, that was far too big to fit into a box so little, and besides, that would have been too sick a joke for Ope. But there was something heavy in that little box, and Joss was curious what he'd give her…for her birthday…with Tig looking on. The black paper and red bow fell into her ruffled lap, muddied by her filthy hands, and carefully she lifted the top off of the box. But then her curiosity turned to befuddlement by what she'd uncovered. She stared down at it for a few more seconds, trying to figure it out, it wasn't a gift, not like a real, tangible thing that was what it was, no, it was some kind of…symbol of something, and Joss was feeling stupid and ungrateful for not being able to figure it out despite her IQ. Finally she gave up and looked over at Ope, but he looked…tentative.

"What is this?" She asked, half smiling, trying not to make him so uncomfortable, but she grabbed the pieces of kitchen twine that were glued to the brass jacket of the nine millimeter round that lay in the little box she'd opened, lifting it out and holding it there, dangling between she and Opie.

Ope looked like he didn't want to answer her, or even be looking at her. Maybe he thought this was a stupid thing he'd obviously put together and gave to her, like it was one of those ideas that had seemed to be so awesome after a couple of beers, but not so great now that he was sober. He sighed, and his eyes found hers, looking so deeply that Joss almost felt like she was giving something away to him that was only for Tig, but that's when she saw that this wasn't some drunkenly thought up, four in the morning prank that now looked so lame in the daylight. She was starting to worry a little…those snack crackers again on her mind…and she watched as Opie looked over his shoulder at Tig and then back at her, like connecting the two of them. "It's a bullet," Ope finally said to her, his voice a little hoarse. "For you," he told her and paused…a long, heavy pause…she liked it here, didn't she? Where was her favorite spot? He'd looked back at Tig…oh God! That night in the hospital, Tig had come to her and told her "it was done." Oh God…Opie? Opie? The air hissed out of her lungs, she was so empty, yet so full…Opie…it was done…it was done...forever with her man…and that's when Ope sighed and looked at her again, eyes on hers. "But there are strings attached."

"What are they?" The question flew from her lips, her heart pounding and she wanted to look back at Tig herself and somehow tell him that it really was "done," that this was "the place"…but "strings?" Whatever they were, Joss had to cut them, now!

Ope sighed and looked away again, scuffing his boot in the dead leaves. "That's between me and Tig." He told her, sounding half apologetic but mostly glad that he knew he'd just put up a wall Joss wasn't allowed to climb over. He looked like he might go quiet for awhile, and Joss tried to understand why…but all she could feel was the rapture of knowing she'd always be with Tig…and their son…her king and her prince…she wanted to smile, she wanted to thank Ope, she wanted to rejoice in this and make Ope understand what it was he was giving her…losing Tig…oh God…just the thought of it made her feel as though she was closed away, alone, in the blackest of black rooms, the walls closing in on her, no hope of escape, just the grinding and crushing of pain and grief squeezing her broken heart into her brain and obliterating all her senses, leaving her a flattened shell of raw, beastly emotion she'd never be able to break through. But it wouldn't happen…Ope wouldn't let that happen to her! Right?

"Opie!" his name left her mouth so desperately, like she was begging him to tell her something…make her some kind of promise…promise…Ope was staying! Why would he have given her that bullet, strings attached or not, if he didn't plan on being here in the future? Happy relief clouded her need for clarity, and all Joss could do was sit there with her head caught somewhere between nodding and shaking.

"Look, I understand, okay?" He said; his voice a little forceful as he looked back at her again, but Joss knew he wasn't angry…just defeated. "You and Tig aren't together like normal people are, I get that, I do," he sighed then, shook his head like he wished he didn't, and he probably did. "If anything, I started to figure that out last year at Sturgis, when Tig got pissed off that every guy who passed you on the main drag kept yelling for you to take off your top, and he wouldn't let you leave the camp anymore…I was laying in the tent one night, listening to you two out by the fire, making plans for a zombie apocalypse, how if either one of you got infected, the other was going to offer themselves up as a meal, cuz either way, you'd be together forever either in the other's belly, or as a pair of the undead…"

Wow, Ope remembered that conversation? That's what had been the key for him to understand just what it was that she and Tig meant to each other? It wasn't even a serious conversation…zombie apocalypse…Joss started to laugh, making Ope's head jerk up and he looked at her like her laughter was the last thing he needed to hear right now. "I'm sorry," she clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to respect him by not laughing, but she couldn't help it. "It's just that between Tig defending my 'honor' within a life where everyone's tits are hanging out, and us having that talk about zombies, it was the zombies that painted the picture for you?" She laughed again, heartier, but still trying to stop…only now, despite how he was fighting it, Ope was laughing too. Joss made herself sigh, just so she could speak. "I expected more from you, Ope. I really did." She told him, and then both of them laughed again…and oh God, did she need to laugh.

There was a sound behind them, a heavy, bitter sound of someone loudly clearing their throat…Tig…Joss and Ope sucked up their laughter like two kids caught talking in class, and Joss turned at her waist, looking back at her man and smiling at him, letting him know everything was okay, that he didn't need to be worried about anything, that whatever it was that had her and Ope laughing like this, together, it was a good thing. There were a lot of good things now…but she wondered about those "strings."

Ope wiped his hand down his face a few times, like wiping the smile off his face to lessen Tig's suspicion and also so he could talk seriously to Joss again, turning to her with that devoted look she'd often caught him casting her direction. "My point is that I'll be there for you, like you asked me to be." He told her but his words weren't so much like heavy rocks plummeting to the bottom of a pond now. "I'll be there, Joss. However you need me to be."

Hmm…that had something to do with the "strings," she could tell, but now was no time to start looking the gift horse in the mouth. Joss nodded, returning the bullet and the strings to the box they'd arrived in and set it into her lap, realizing there was something she owed to Opie, something she wanted him to know, no matter how against regulations it was for her to say so. "Thank you," she started there, but then looked down at her muddy skirt, the way is spread out over the bench and hid so much of it, and she lowered her hand down under the dirty ruffles, down against Opie's knuckles as he gripped the edge of the bench's granite seat, and she covered his hand with hers. His jumped at her touch, but he was smart enough not to let his head pop up in startled amazement. "Ope, I want you to know that…" for some reason Joss paused and felt something creeping into her that wasn't initially there, but it wanted out, seeking to be made sense of. "I do feel something for you, but I don't know what it is." What? Did she really just say that to Ope? He wasn't acting like she'd just said that to him, he was just sitting there, looking at the ground, nodding his head slowly, not lunging at her with a hug and a kiss and a…whatever else Joss was afraid he'd come up with…shit, but maybe she should try to explain, just to clarify that she wasn't saying what she was saying…what? Oh God, she was as confused as Tig when it came to what she was feeling! "I mean, I care about you, I do. I wasn't just putting that on when I asked you to stay, I did mean it. But, I don't…I mean…it's not like…I mean, you're not what Jax is to me, definitely not! But you're also not like what Clay is, or Bobby is…it's something different from that…but it's not like…you're not…"

"I'm not Tig," Ope suddenly answered for her, but he didn't sound downtrodden or heartbroken. "I know, it's okay." Then he smiled at her a little, but he didn't look as glad to receive her "gift" as she'd for some reason hoped that he would. "Why would I want to be Tig, anyway?"

Joss smiled and laughed a little, still trying to figure out what it was she'd said or meant, but the moment was gone and it was best that it stayed that way. But, she did have something else to tell him, something she meant just as much. "Hey, you are a really great guy, you know that?" She asked him, but Ope shrugged, still looking down, and so Joss gave his hand a squeeze with her own, perking Ope up a little, but he still looked down. "I mean that." She offered again, and this time Ope nodded. Joss smiled, but tread lightly. "And I know I don't have any right to be saying this; it's not even any of my business, but because I do care about you, I'm going to take the chance that you'll be pissed at me forever and say it," now Ope looked at her, not stopping her, but a little on edge, his brow furrowed under the weight of what she was going to say and what she thought…and that was all the spurring on that Joss needed. "You think a lot about what everyone else thinks of the things you do or want to do, or how it will affect them, or what it is they expect from you. You don't like to disappoint people, and that's what makes you the decent man that you are. But don't get so lost in what everyone else wants that you never figure out what you want, Ope." Joss paused, staring back into Opie's eyes, feeling almost like she was holding him up as she did, and her hand slid comfortingly over his, her fingers interlocking with his beneath the mounds of ruffles and mud. "There are a lot of things out there that could make you happy, and I hope you find them." And then she knew why it was she'd mentioned how she felt about him, that thing that was between her and Ope that she couldn't name. It was what it was, and it would never be anything more than that. She still couldn't name it, but now she didn't have to. She looked back at Ope again, and she smiled, but her voice was just a little bit sad. "Please, for me?


	66. Man of Steel

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 66

Her wet skin was so smooth and warm and tasted of the dusky, clove spice soap she'd scrubbed over it, the water disappearing down the shower drain tinged brown with the rich, brown earth of Evermore. This wasn't supposed to be happening, every California charter of SOA awaited them at the clubhouse, but the only power Tig felt within himself was that which he knew Joss wished him to assert over her. She twisted and she squirmed against him, winding herself around him, her arms tight around his neck as his mouth slid from hers, catching every part of her pale skin before settling here at her soft breast, one of her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling them closer and closer together into an intimacy they hadn't shared in so very long. He was hard, harder than hard, every extra "Y" chromosome he had on its feet and shouting back in virile answer to the call of Joss's body, and he wished like hell the logical part of him that so often malfunctioned would shut the hell up and let him believe that it was okay to give them what they both needed. She'd said it was…she'd said it was…

He could feel her wanting him even before they'd gotten home; she'd laid her head against his back as he drove from Evermore, her arms around his waist like usual, but her fingers stretching upwards against his body, trying to crawl into the openings of his shirt between the pearl buttons. She hadn't said what Ope had told her, or why it had taken so long to do so, and Tig hadn't asked; that was something for him to ask Ope, not his own wife. But Tig had seen the bullet Ope had given her, covered in two or three inch lengths of string like it was wearing a hula skirt, and Ope had sworn he'd explain it all to Tig as soon as he could. But, whatever it meant, it had made Joss want her old man even more than she had prior to heading out through town, and then to Evermore; she wanted to be close, as close as they could be, she wanted oneness…and it was all Tig could do not to stop the bike between the old church and their house, drag her into a ditch and give it to her.

Tig was no match for his own desires, grabbing Joss harder and hoisting her up higher against the tiled shower wall where he could get at her tits better, his mouth half open and his teeth gigging the ampleness of her silken breast until her hard nipple jutted against the bristly hair on his chin, Joss moaning and begging for more contact and Tig clamping his mouth over the taut, pink peak, sucking hard, the taste and texture of her excited skin rattling up and down the long, stiff shaft of his cock, his balls pounding against his thighs, and he growled and snarled at himself, cursing what he did and how it fueled a fire he couldn't yet extinguish.

Joss had been more mud covered than he was, and so he'd let her have the shower first, fighting himself back out into the garage to wipe the mud off of his bike. The garage was safe…he wouldn't be near enough to watch the dirt soaked wedding dress peel from Joss's perfect body, or be able to see her rinsing off her long, delectable leg, black painted toes on the tile, heel arched up, knee slightly bent, the luscious curve of her calf and line of her thigh on elegant display. But it was all he could imagine as he waited for her to finish, returning to the house, making his way up the stairs to their room with closed his eyes, so afraid of what just a glimpse of her naked body might do to him…and ultimately her. Something had come over that girl, something more than usual, and it was spreading to him. He was prying his boots off in their room when she finally padded out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet and clean, the shower still running, awaiting him…but it hadn't been his for very long.

He'd scarcely rinsed soap from his hair when he opened his eyes to see Joss standing in the bathroom doorway, watching him, hunting him, needing him. Her long, shiny black hair was still damp and hung over her pale shoulders in ripples, her green eyes prominent against the flush of her milky skin. She dropped her towel, the white, terry cotton falling around her hips and to the floor like a drape being pulled from an alabaster sculpture. Joss stood in the entrance way, her arms raised about shoulder height, a palm pressing to each side of the doorway, her big, full breasts projected proudly out, her ribcage moving gracefully beneath her white skin and the predatory, big cat tattooed there seeming to purr as she drew passion shortened breaths. She raised her pointed toes slowly and alluringly, moving that long leg back behind the bend of the knee of other like a ballet dancer, the angle of her hip allowing Tig's eyes to dig right into the nearly smooth white crescent he'd been exiled from for far too long. He felt blood surging inside him like a tidal wave and his cock snapped to attention from the half erect state it had been in since he'd felt Joss's hands on his chest driving home. She moved like she knew what she was doing to him, but making this quiet seduction look natural and fortuitous …but it was; the girl could be blatantly sexy when she wanted to, but this was different, this was something stronger than she was, driven and flogged by some surging desire for him. What happened in that cemetery? It had started as soon as she'd left it, luring Tig into her, no matter the cost; she wanted her old man in ways too fierce for him to fight. Her eyes had been on herself, as if checking here and there to see that she looked good enough to offer herself to him, and then finally her head turned in Tig's direction, staring at him through the sliding shower doors like something come to visit him from a dark realm of seraphim, ready to take flight at the wave of his hand, but the fire lit emeralds of her eyes begged him not to send her away. How could he? And suddenly there she was, stepping into the rain of hot water and steam with him.

There wasn't a spot on her beautiful tits now that didn't bear the mark of his teeth, both of her nipples sucked and nipped at so thoroughly they'd become sharp, little points and not the rounded buds he'd nuzzled at the start. Every cell in his body stood stiff and bold, every part of him begging to fuck her as much as Joss was begging him to herself. He could feel warm drops of pre-cum leaking down the thick shaft of his cock, all the big blue veins twitching as blood gorged them, and Joss shoved her shoulders back against the tiled wall, leveraging herself even more against him, one of her hands wrestling free of their shared embrace, but her fingers couldn't last long without the feel of his body under them, pressing to his chest, but moving downwards, and downwards. Tig's meager control was slipping…but he couldn't let himself loose on her; it was still too soon for that. The first time he'd fucked her may have only been nine days after her surgery, but they weren't what they were now that first time, things had intensified and grown more feral between them…but Joss's hand kept traveling down, over his hip, his throbbing cock achingly stretching even more erect up to meet her hand…Jesus, she knew what he was, why was she courting the danger of it? Something happened in that cemetery…something. Her hand stopped moving, staying right where it was on his leg, causing wanton muscle tremors in his thigh.

Her dilated green eyes opened and she held her head up enough to look at him, her lips drawn to his despite how she'd meant to speak to him, her tongue rolling over and over with his, each of them sucking at the other's lips with more and more fervor, Tig crushing her harder and harder against him as everything he tried so desperately to keep suppressed rose to dizzying, regrettable, ranks. She was out of breath, the hand placed on his thigh quivering over top of the excited muscle it caressed, and they stood, two shuddering things at the mercy of such a primal force. "This has to end," Joss said, her voice muffled by the waves of passion surrounding them, but what she'd said surprised Tig, his hope rising that she'd end this here and now…but then she continued, the hand on his thigh moving inwards, slowly creeping over his hot, wet skin and dark hairs with the most hellacious tickling sensation that was only outmatched by the sudden jerk of her hand wrapping around the solid, hungry length of his dick, the electricity that shot through him at the touch disintegrating what objections he had left to cling to. She hadn't meant what he'd hoped she did…she wanted her old man, she wanted oneness…oneness…Ope…the bullet…Ope'd told her! Tig had no time to even think what he felt about that before Joss kissed him again, her fingers working his cock like only she knew how to, tracing the pounding veins within the supple skin, encouraging the meaty head to flare and contract with each stroke of her hand. "There's no reason why it can't end now."

Chapter 66: Part 2

The heavy, wrought iron headboard clamored against the wall into the same places where the decorative, spear head shaped points had previously gouged away the paint and wall board. Only this time in addition to the moaning of bedsprings and knocking of wrought iron into drywall, there was also the jingling clang of handcuffs that secured one of Tig's arms up above his head, his wrist assuredly locked to the thickest, most solid piece of the frame of the iron headboard. He'd insisted on his being restrained, but it wasn't some latest perversion of his that made him click handcuffs to one of his wrists, but the fear that if he was allowed to have the reign over her body that Joss usually allowed him, he'd tear her open. But he couldn't deny her what she wanted, for as much as she yearned to have him deep, deep, deep inside of her, Tig wanted it more; days of pushing those desires away, tamping them down, keeping them hidden had only fermented them into a powerful concentrate that sharpened his senses and honed his voracity; Joss could feel it seeping through his skin.

He'd given her control, laying on his back, putting her above him, knowing that she'd have the power to stop whenever she may need to because of the pain he was certain she'd experience, told her to move slowly, take her time, not to rush it…to be careful…and she could see in his clear, blue eyes that he'd never felt as dangerous as he did now. She'd tried to do what he told her to do, tried to move slowly along, but Tig's body was taxed to its limits, every muscle bulging with need, big chest covered in sweat and rising and falling like a billowing wave, his long, bulky cock spasming as it lay rigid and tense against his abdomen, the head becoming more and more purple, waiting in patient anguish.

Joss felt dizzy with her want of him, the man she'd be with forever, the man she wanted to honor that eternity with by being locked together under the grind of skin, muscle, bone, sweat, blood and tears; guttural cries that only the other could answer, bodies twisting, thrashing, riding one another to the oblivion that would bind them…evermore. She had no memory of climbing above his powerful body; she was only aware of what was alive in her own, a million lit fuses to a million pyrotechnics in her blood all exploding at once, Tig bellowing loudly below her, rattling the chains that bound him, snarling with the urge to pull her down to him as the head of his sorely swollen cock broke the days old seal of her wet, hot sheath. Joss shivered at the sensation of her man entering her, sliding inside of her, feeling massive, reminding her body of the dominance he'd always hold over it, no matter where he let her roam or what he was chained to. The soft, slick, bulging walls that wrapped around and gripped Tig's hardness shuddered and shook around him, sucking up every part of him there was to feel, the friction too sweet to end no matter that Joss could feel that her body had changed, that she'd have to tear to take him in, that Tig was right, he could hurt her…but he was shackled down, his viciousness subdued by steel.

She didn't stop, just supported her weight with her hands flat on his beautiful chest, both of them gasping as his big, heavy, fat cock put her in her place, barging into her deeper and deeper, Joss not even trying to fight the winces and shudders that gripped her body, letting them carry away each startled breath or whimper that arose in her throat. But for every inch that she sank down upon, another seemed to follow it, Tig trying like mad to be still and not thrust the rest of himself into her with a rough, deep, violent stroke, obviously suffering under the same tightness she could feel gradually giving way within herself…but he was big…and she knew he was…but oh God, he was so big…he took up all that she was and still more pushed into her as if it were driving straight for her pounding heart. The pit of her stomach ached, her kidneys too, the blood gorged opening of her tenderly sore vagina stretched to what felt like its limits, but still the rest of her demanded more, forced her against her better judgment to take her weight on her knees, not steady it against Tig's heaving chest. And she did, felt his big cock collide with something deep inside of her, both the ache and her desire intensifying, her body giving a sudden jump that she couldn't control and Tig growled and twisted in his restraints as even more of him was rammed inside of her, the fullness she felt so satisfying, but so impossible, wanting more but afraid to go after it, and yet her hips were already in motion.

She'd blacked out the first time he'd fucked her, and now she began to understand why. How could she ever keep up with this? She had more of him than she could handle, he barely moved inside her, she was so tight. Every time his huge cock throbbed it felt like he'd burst her open, she felt him all the way up into her diaphragm, it was difficult to breathe, a fence post impaling her, but something gave her the strength to, her want of him tougher than the part of her brain that kept shouting that Tig was going to rip her open. There wasn't an even breath drawn between them, the cuffs clanging against their iron stay as Tig yanked on them, both of them trembling and seeking more than the lock of her body around his would allow, but Joss couldn't stop herself from moving above him, pushing through what she faintly recognized as pain in pursuit of what lay on the other side of it.

And then something else touched her, sliding between her soft, wet labial lips that were spread wide by the base of Tig's big cock, and it stroked upwards through her pink folds, brushing her engorged clitoris, rubbing it hard and then gently flicking it, a finger from Tig's free hand, doing what he could to ease the torment for her, making her blood warm even more and a new rhythm overtake the comfortable one she was failing to find. He stroked and rubbed her, his fingers kissing her sentient little bud gently when her stomach would tremble and she'd pull away, too overloaded by the sensation, but she always moved back to it, faster and harder than before. The muscles in her thighs went tight, and she moved with more distinctive action now, really fucking him, trapping his hand between her clitoris and his groin as she sank down onto him, grinding herself against the constant massage of his fingers as she felt her body tensing and tightening, yet opening up…a fierce tingling taking her over, spreading up from between her legs, making her limbs twitch, then settling in her peaked nipples like the sizzling glitter of a sparkler.

Tig was yanking and pulling at the cuffs, the noises getting louder, the steel howling against the wrought iron as he growled and groaned and wrenched at the hold it had on him, fighting to be free of it, the noises of his battle to be above her as she came, slamming himself into her and owning her in the perfect way that only he could enhancing all that was sweeping over her. He sounded monstrous, angry, teeth grinding as he roared and jerked at the cuffs, harder and harder, Joss unable to do anything but fuck his big cock deeper and deeper inside her.

There wasn't a muscle in his body that wasn't flexed, and then something flew through the air, a thunderous grunt escaping Tig's throat as he threw a powerhouse punch at nothing, the two steel links of chain that bound his hand to the wrought iron giving way with a sudden, explosive "clink" and metal rocketed across the bed, Tig now free, and Joss violently lifted up and then thrown back down, on her back, Tig above her, growling deep and heavy all the way from his broad chest, fucking her hard, faster than she could feel any pain from it, digging deeper, going further, having all of her the way he used to, pounding her into the mattress with his hunger, strength and brute force. She should stop him, she should…oh God, he was going to…oh God…and Joss was gone, part of something that was no longer herself.

Chapter 66; Part 3

It was dark when she awoke, Tig still beside her, his arm crooked around her shoulders, his other slung over his chest, bracelet-ed with a busted handcuff. So…that really had happened? He'd warned her not to mess with him…but she'd had no idea! Joss smiled, but she apparently laughed too, prompting Tig to raise his head and roll over onto his side, looking down at her like he was relieved to see her awake, but still so concerned.

"You okay, little girl?" He asked quickly, not hiding that he'd been laying awake beside her, worrying…and that's when Joss noticed the sheet barely covered her, pulled down almost to her knees where Tig had left it lay as he checked to see if she was bleeding.

But she must not have been; she'd have awoken at Saint Thomas if she was. Wow…wouldn't that have been a scene? The scariest SAMCRO brother that ever lived, barreling into the ER with his new wife hemorrhaging from between her legs, wrapped in sheets in his arms…with a broken handcuff around his wrist framing it all. Tara would have been appalled…Tara…yeah…Joss sighed. She had Tig's worries to soothe, and then they had their reception to get to at the clubhouse, she didn't have time to get lost in the Tara stuff she still so often did. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said to him and reached over to trace the separate pieces of his dark goatee, Tig's eyes closing in reprieve of his fears and tilting his head into her hand, nuzzling it against her palm and fingers…and to think he was the same, ferocious thing that broke through steel to fuck the hell out of her. She wanted to kiss him, but Tig wasn't moving any closer to her than he was already, too full up still of all the touching that had gone on and not seeking more than what he currently he had.

His eyes opened again and he pulled away from the tenderness of her hand and sat up, knees bent and he leaned against them with his arms, but looked down at her, something serious in his mind now, something he wasn't yet settled with. "Opie can't keep his damn mouth shut, can he?"

"Tig," Joss sighed, but made sure her expression was calm and happy, moving to sit up too when a peculiar pain hit her, her hips feeling like they were each in the wrong socket or something and she grimaced as she tried to stretch and get them the joints to pop and relieve the familiar pressure, Tig scrambling closer to her, not sure where to put his hands, but grabbing whatever he could of her in a panic.

"Fuck! I knew it!" He yelled, the handcuff on his wrist still jangling as he tried to keep her still.

"I'm fine," Joss laughed, a little harder than she would have any other time, then kicked with one of her legs, a dull "click" finally resonating from between her thigh and belly, everything back in comfortable order again, the other hip finding its own way as Joss once again tried to sit up…and she was a little sore, but that was not something she was going to mention to him. "My hips just had to crack, Tig. It's alright."

He let go of her, still looking confused and skeptical and guilty. "I dislocated your hips?" He sort of stretched out the words, the last of them digging in like he was so disappointed in himself and so worried about her. "Jesus Christ! Why didn't you—"

"Tig, stop it!" Joss's voice was quick and stern, her fingers covering his mouth because sometimes, that was the only way to make Tig stop saying something…he responded to physical gestures much faster than verbal ones. "I'm okay. I know it got rough, but I wanted it to," she smiled again as she watched some of the creases lighten in his furrowed brow. "I love you, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He seemed to think it over for a few seconds until it felt right, and then he nodded, picking right up where he'd left off before, like he so naturally did any time something emotional interrupted the point he was making. "I never meant for you to know about…Ope." He looked down, picking at little pieces of steel that littered the sheets.

"Why?" Joss shrugged and shook her head, "You told me it was 'done,' but now I know who will make sur—"

"I don't want you feeling 'marked,' God damn it!" Tig muttered another cluster of four letter words under his breath and threw a handful of little bits of metal across the room in frustration. Joss wanted to say something, to first and foremost let him know that she didn't have a sense of some target having been placed on her back, but she knew Tig well enough to know when he wanted her to just be quiet and listen to him. He sighed, gathering himself and pulling the most valuable words out of the anger he felt, keeping hold of them as he pushed it away then looked over at her with those lucid, blue eyes, a little calmer now. "I didn't want Ope carrying your awareness around with him either; he doesn't have that in him. He won't be able to come through when you need him to if every time he looks at you now, he knows you know." Tig was quiet again, his teeth slowly scraping at the inside of his lip as he shook his head, something else coming to him that he obviously was against happening. He looked back at Joss again, an order on the way. "I know you want him to be a friend, Joss. I saw that today, but don't go off thinking I've got it that there's more to it than that, okay?" He sort of rasped as if Joss was the jealous and paranoid one, but she just nodded her head dutifully, feeling so proud of him. But Tig shook his head again, "He knows you know, baby…" Tig said again and then sighed one more time, "Whatever the fuck you and Ope are going to have in this club, don't let it be that!"


	67. Lady in Waiting

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 67

Admittedly, the ride to the clubhouse on the back of Tig's bike hadn't been the most comfortable. Joss never noticed there were so many bumps in that seven minute stretch of road! Sitting down wasn't likely to be all that comfortable either; everything between her legs ached…but not so badly that when her man reached for her tonight that she'd put him off…no way! And he would reach for her tonight…he'd already been reaching for her, whatever the spell that bound them still hung over them, Tig's hand reaching back behind him as he drove, caressing her calf or thigh the whole trip from their house to the clubhouse. But he was right…he'd hurt her…perhaps not as badly as Tig had been envisioning, but yeah…ouch…he'd left his mark…and it was such a pleasant pain to bear.

His grouchiness that she'd awoken to, concerning what Ope had revealed to her, had subsided quickly; it was gone before Joss was even through with her second shower of the day and she'd had to keep reminding Tig from the tight wrap of his strong arms and ravishing mouth that that they had to go to their reception. It wasn't easy…or fair…she'd swayed him into believing she'd be okay…and then she'd proved that she was, and they were back…very very very back…this was their wedding night, technically…again…why couldn't they just den up together like they used to and live naked on the island of their bed until Tig beat this soreness out of her?

Well, actually Joss knew and understood the answer to that. Tig's club was waiting for them; the same club he'd be king of, president of the mother chapter was a huge deal. They had to show up; it wasn't something they could just blow off in favor of the wicked bliss of their carnal carnival. The ferocity of their love would be fed again later…her man had broken handcuffs to get at her…Joss's breath still escaped her when she thought back to it…but now, it was time to appear together, before the club, and be all that they'd sworn to be at their wedding.

But each of them knew what that would entail. They'd have to split up, each going their separate ways to their separate audiences, Tig to his brothers to smoke and drink and promote his future plans for the club, and show off his queen by gazing longingly at her from across the room, letting everyone know that not only did she belong to him, but that what was between them could never be broken, not even by distance. And Joss had her court to satisfy as well, beginning with Gemma first and foremost of all, but then there were also Lauren and Chucky and all the other old ladies whom would be hers to set an example for. And Opie…she wasn't sure what she could do there, but she'd promised Tig that she wouldn't allow that bullet to be what she and Opie based any friendship they may develop on. It would be a long night, and even though the crown didn't rest on Tig's head yet, they'd become regents in an unofficial way, and their duties as such began now. These last few fleeting moments, sitting on his bike, far out in the clubhouse lot though, were still all theirs.

Joss wore a brand new, long sleeved, black, close fitting top with a low "V" neck, stylish slashes pulling it open at both her shoulders and down her arms, but what she loved most was the way the stretchy, black fabric stopped immediately below her bust line, nothing but long, shiny strips of black, satin ribbon hanging like a elongated fringe from beneath her breasts to her waist. She liked how the ribbon swayed and allowed for glimpses of the tiger, that symbolized her man, to be seen on her white skin whenever she moved, and Tig seemed to really like it as well, though he hadn't said so. But he hadn't had to, he was kissing her, his fingers strumming through the curtain of ribbon and stroking up and down the contours of her form as he groaned deeply. Joss had been saving this top for something special, and it had arrived; the outfit topped off with dark wash, distressed and ripped, low-rise skinny jeans, eight buckle, black, gothic, spike heeled boots that came to her knee, and of course her patch, the most awesome thing she'd ever worn for any occasion. She'd been even more careful now with her make-up than she had been before the wedding, the black, shimmering wings perfectly even on both her eyes below the silver and charcoal shadow on her lids, the glossy red of her lips dramatic and provocative. She looked like a queen…Tig's queen.

But if they kept kissing like this, she'd have to re-do her make-up. Tig would have been wearing most of her lipstick by now if Joss hadn't powdered over it to prevent it from bleeding into her skin. He just didn't want to let her go, and she smiled and clung back to him, not wanting to be let go of. Tig had put on a dark blue, long sleeved "T," and Joss's hands moved over his chest in frustration of there being no way to get at his skin, and so she'd dragged her nails against the fabric as the kissed, Tig pressing his body to hers more, wanting her to keep clawing at him, no doubt because she so often did so when he fucked her. But Joss knew it wasn't fair to start stirring things up in either of them anymore than they already were…duty called…and her body would benefit from a few hours rest…

She let her lips slide from his, hoping to open her eyes and find him looking at her in recognition of how they had to be winding this down and going inside, but as soon as she'd looked up, Tig's lips, tongue and teeth were at her neck, worrying every inch of her throat. Damn it…she really wanted to tell him to take them back home…tell him to take her to bed and fuck her again, hard, despite the bruised aching inside of her. But no…she couldn't do that…and it really really sucked! But, her man was the next king…a lot of her job would be looking after what that meant to everyone.

"Tig," she hadn't meant to moan his name, but she had, his ministrations making her too frail to pull away from them, but she had to get his attention. "Tig," and this time she made a fist and pushed him in the shoulder with it…physical gestures…and it worked, Tig stopping what he was doing and sitting back, trying to catch his breath.

"I know," he said and nodded his head, then exhaled as if he were blowing out smoke from a cigarette. "It's that thing again, baby. I can't help it."

Joss smiled, Tig spoke of "this thing" as if it were some run of bad luck, but she knew he lived for it just as much as she did, though it could be trouble at times. "I know," her smile broadened, and she realized her own hands were still pressed to his broad chest, nails pricking the fabric of his shirt, and she quickly collected all of her fingers, placing them in her lap.

"You ready to do this?" He asked her, looking off at the clubhouse and all of the bikes and all of his brothers who moved around inside and outside. Then he smiled a little, reminiscently looking over the bikes of brothers he hardly even knew. "Should be a little easier than the first time I took you in there. They all know what you are now and that you're better than all the bitches they have or could ever get…put together into one really, great, big, huge bitch!"

Joss laughed, once again Tig's overdone compliment becoming something so sweetly silly. He'd earned it, in an odd fashion, so Joss leaned forward and kissed him quickly, sitting back again before he could wrap her up in his arms and start this whole spell to casting over them thickly once more. "Come on, everyone's waiting…even the really big, huge bitches."

She moved to swing her leg over the back of his bike, sore muscles singing out as she did, but Tig caught her by the arm and pulled her close to him again, Joss on her feet and him still facing where she'd been sitting on his bike. He wrapped both his arms around her waist and savored one last feel of her body against his, looking up at her with so much burning in his bright, blue eyes. "Tell me you love me."

Chapter 67; Part 2 

All eyes seemed to be on her in the most rapt kind of stares, and when she walked, hangarounds, old ladies and full patches as well, moved out of her way. It was so different from that first party the club had thrown for her and Tig where he'd had to pick her up and carry her into the clubhouse through the rambunctious crowd to keep her sheltered from the many hands that pointed at her as shouts and cat calls and obscene congratulations were offered to Tig. But not now; the party still went on, the music still blared, the beer still flowed, but no one said anything to, or about Joss, that wasn't full of reputable veneration. Men, and women, she didn't even know were hugging her, telling her "congratulations" and offering to get her a countless number of beers, open packs of cigarettes being presented to her as she passed, sometimes a freshly rolled joint, or a few tablets of crystal meth and lines of pure, white cocaine.

She'd been around all of this for so long now, but Joss felt a bit trapped, not sure how to handle the alcohol and drugs that swirled around her. She didn't smoke, or drink and she'd had so many bikers doping her up or doping her down with so many drugs, she was forever done with putting them into her body. But…if she didn't accept them, it could cause some hurt feelings…she was going to be queen…she had to consider what made for good relationships with those she served and positive feelings towards who and what she was. It was ridiculous, and it felt almost wasteful, but in the interest of maintaining a positive image for both her and Tig, Joss began accepting anything that was offered which she could sneak into a jean pocket or tuck away in her waist band…she could always get rid of them again when no one was watching…it just didn't feel right to not accept the "gifts" she was being offered.

Her eyes were open wide for anyone from her SAMCRO family, who would know it was pointless to offer her beer and drugs and cigarettes, and Joss hoped she'd find them back in the depths of the clubhouse where the couches and bar were. But there were so many bikers and their half naked, to completely naked, women all moving out of her way to let her pass, it was difficult to distinguish who they were unless Joss could see a bottom rocker.

And then a large hand gently grabbed her elbow as she walked by, pulling her along through the crowd of unknowns like coming to her rescue. Joss looked up, having a feeling who it was already and not surprised when Ope smiled down at her, laughing a little as he took her to the security of a bar stool, brushing crushed pretzels and potato chip crumbs off the counter so Joss could sit, and then began taking all the many things she'd been forced to carry when she'd run out of room in her tight and tiny skinny jeans pockets.

"What are you doing with all of this?" He asked, so amused that two already opened and full beer bottles, five bags of meth, six cigarettes, three tiny Ziploc baggies of heroin, four joints and a brownish-blackish lump of what appeared to be hashish all now lay on the bar in front of her. "I've been arrested in less fruitful drug raids." He laughed.

Joss sighed, but laughed herself. She was glad to have found Opie…or that he'd found her…he was still jumping in to save her, but she was beginning to figure out he'd always do that…and really, how was it so different than how Clay would, or Bobby? Well…yeah, it was definitely different…but at least it wasn't all hinged on a gun and a bullet, right? Her eyes swept over her amassed treasures…Tig would have been proud…Joss laughed again then looked up at Ope. "I didn't know what to do! Everyone was just giving it to me and I felt impolite telling them 'no thank you.'"

Again Ope laughed, bent down and opened the small, cube shaped fridge under the bar and stood straight again with a bottle of water, sitting it in front her…a bottle of water…but it was different now, he knew her, his intentions were good, if not still a little inappropriate, but again Joss was figuring out that they may always be. "I'll get rid of it all; don't want your sense of etiquette getting you into any situations you don't deserve."

"Thank you," Joss answered, and ran her finger along the inside of her waistband to be sure there were no strays left in there, but nothing remained to hand over to Opie…wait…Ope had just done a sort of Jax-like thing, but in a less preachy and blameful Jax sort of way…Opie was sort of like Jax…her "brother." She looked up at Opie again, but it was too late to say anything to him, for Gemma moved into Joss's frame of vision. She wasn't in the beautiful, bronze dress she'd worn at the wedding, everything at the reception was sort of relaxed, but Gemma still looked gorgeous and powerful in boots, jeans and body hugging plaid, button down shirt. Her hands were on her hips and a stern look on her face, but the queen wasn't focused on Joss.

"Ope, other side of the room, with Clay and Tig." Gemma reminded him whether because Ope truly was where he shouldn't have been, or because she wanted Joss to herself, Joss wasn't exactly sure; but it couldn't have been the first one, because how the hell would Opie have known to lay in wait for her nearest to the bar? Joss didn't know she'd be heading back this way; she was just looking for a familiar face.

Ope nodded dutifully then grabbed one of Joss's beers. "Later," he said to her with a nod and then walked away, over to where Gemma wanted him, leaving the future queen under the critical gaze of the reigning one.

"This is quite a haul," Gemma's voice curled into sarcasm as she looked down at all the drugs on the bar, then she looked coolly at Joss. "Is it time for a twelve step program, or are you just thinking about dealing?"

Joss felt herself quiver a little at Gemma's dissatisfaction, trying to tap into that part of herself that had wanted to talk to Gemma, that part of herself that was so happy that her "mother" had been there to see Joss marry the man she loved…but it was hiding right now. "I…everyone was trying to be nice and show their support, and I thought—"

"That you had to acknowledge that by receiving shit you don't want and won't use?" Gemma continued, leaving Joss a little speechless, but she nodded her head, waiting for Gemma's heavy, disappointed sigh, and sure enough, it came. The queen shook her head, dragging her arm down the bar and moving all the pills and baggies and beer bottle out of the way. "I guess this is a little harder for you," she said, leaving Joss to wonder if that hadn't been some swipe at her age or her sanity, but it all made sense soon. "SOA was so small when I married into it that I couldn't help but know everybody and they couldn't help but know me. But you? You've got charters all over the world who don't have a clue about the kind of chick you are."

Wow…that was sympathetic, yet really really intimidating! Charters all over the world! Tig could handle that, he'd worked with his international brothers before, knew who the international presidents and officers all were…but…wow…Joss sat there hoping she could remember how many charters were in each country that had SOA charters and feeling like she had to study. She looked wide eyed back at Gemma; there was so much to learn that Joss hadn't even considered! She hadn't even been ready for all the beer and drugs and smokes she'd had happily thrust at her. "What should I have done?"

Gemma smiled; the sarcasm and disdain relenting as if Joss had finally said something right. "Be who you are and let them see it. Never let them assume they already know."

The simplicity of it shook Joss and she felt so dim-witted for not having thought of that herself. What good could come of things if that crowd out there thought she was just another piece of ass, tweaker bitch that had somehow pushed the right buttons on Tig? Oh no…the urge to re-collect all the things everyone had given her and go back and return them all, with an explanation, was hard to fight…but that likely wasn't going to portray Joss the way she had to be portrayed either. Damn it…she'd screwed up…already…before she even took the throne. She looked at Gemma feeling so ashamed. "I'm sorry! I really feel stupid—"

"No!" Gemma cut her off again, this time her index finger jumping up in between them and wagging back and forth. "Queens never apologize. If we fuck up, we learn from it and promise ourselves, and everyone else relying on us, that it'll never occur again."

Great…that was two screw-ups, back to back! Joss wanted to bury her face in her hands…this was so much more complicated than she thought she understood. Gemma had to be mortified, and rightly so…Joss was! She sighed and shook her head, clearing the reappearance of an apology out of her throat. "I'm going to be horrible at this…aren't I?"

Gemma's features softened further and she almost smiled, but she looked sort of sad and yet sort of…proud? "Look, baby girl," she said and took the stool beside the one Joss was sitting on. "I know things have been pretty shitty between you and me. I've hurt your feelings, and you've hurt mine too," she said and a chill rippled through Joss as Gemma paused, tears threatening behind Joss's eyes…but if she cried, that would have no doubt been screwing up too! So she sat there, doing her best to hold together and waited for Gemma, who was also blinking her eyes excessively and taking in a deep breath to ground herself once more, to continue. "But I'd still take that trip through hell to get where we are right now, and see you step into the shoes I watched you step into today."

Oh…those tears were really hard to hold back now! Gemma was impressed by her, after all that had happened, after all the selfishness and immaturity that Joss had displayed, Gemma couldn't have been prouder of her for turning it around and making it up to not just the queen, but the entire club. Gemma still looked at her with confidence and fulfillment raining from her eyes, but there was a little more there than just that. Joss felt so undeserving, and almost like she was trespassing, but she dared to look more at Gemma, to hear the thoughts in her head, to feel the sense of accomplishment that competed for space with the sadness within her. Jax…he'd been too tortured a soul and spoiled a prince to ascend to the throne he'd been born to, though he'd had several chances to figure himself out and put his club first…but he'd never done so. And then had come Joss, young and wanton, self centered in how she bowed down to her love for Tig and only Tig…but she'd figured out what her "brother" never would…at least one of the queen's "children" had made it, the one she'd chosen instead of having been given. Joss felt her lower lip start to quiver and she tried to suck it back against her teeth to make it stop, but it didn't matter now, because one little tear did escape her eye and rolled slowly down over her cheek…she hadn't let Gemma down. In spite of everything, she'd honored the queen as richly as Gemma could have been, and Gemma loved her.

Joss's hand moved quickly to wipe away the tear streaking her face but Gemma was faster, the queen's fingers wicking away the stain of emotion, but her hand stayed on Joss's face, her manicured nails curling gently behind Joss's ear as Gemma's eyes became a mix of pride and protectiveness. "It's okay, fuck up now, this is your chance to learn, and that's what I'm here for." She told her and waited for Joss to nod that she understood. "I'm not going to let you fail, honey."


	68. One Foot in the Grave

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 68

It was nothing official, and it was talked about with no names being used, but the general consensus now was that Jax was accruing a force with which to attack SOA and win back his throne. The original conjecture was mostly that the deposed prince had been flipped, that he'd been bleeding secrets to whatever branch of the FBI that would listen, in exchange for being placed into witness relocation, but no…that had apparently been a cover…stealing bait cars and getting busted? Yeah, the little fuck-head hadn't gotten anyone to believe that, even if that was just some story whispered about in the hopes of tricking everyone into thinking Jax had some new "friends" in black suits. But him taking off to Texas to raise funds, arms and men? Hmm…yeah, that sounded more than plausible, and it would have been exactly the kind of thing Jax would want to keep secret, make SAMCRO think he was gone forever, relocated to Indiana under some stupid name…Barney Weenerpistol, managing that discount mattress store that Jax was always born to manage anyway…and as soon as SAMCRO suspected nothing, Jax would strike. But there was one man that wouldn't be part of that coup, and he was sitting beside Tig, not saying very much, but occasionally eyeing Joss and nudging Tig's shoulder with his elbow whenever a pair of eyes lingered too long on her ribbon clad form, or Joss did…anything that was worth watching…and so much was…Tig wanted his queen.

It had been Ope to speak up when the subject of Jax arose, and it was to inform everyone that Jax's plan was to run off to Texas, maybe Nevada. Opie volunteering info like that was just the blessing Tig needed, even if Ope's eyes adored Joss when he'd given up prince pee-pants. Joss…that damn girl had spilled her guts to Ope and won his loyalty…and Tig couldn't have loved her more for doing so…even if Ope staying meant years and years of watching the way Chewbadooba looked at her.

There wasn't much to do or plan for regarding Jax and his band of toy soldiers; Tig couldn't fight something that was yet to show itself, and he and Clay both had a feeling that it wouldn't be any time soon. Jax would need as much drama as he could muster with the war he'd be starting; he'd wait until Tig was firmly fixed as the new king, then attack…there'd be so much more poetry to it all then…the little, blond ninny could write madrigal ballads about it then! He'd always had himself confused with some Robin Hood in black leather anyway. Besides that, Jax would have to think about every detail of any attack first, he'd have to have plans "A" through "Z," then haughtily disagree with anyone in his command who thought differently, and then once he got that done, the big crybaby binky bladder would likely have to ruminate on how he felt about it all and how unfair the world was to him that he was being left with only the choice to attack the club his own father had started…Jax's father…shit, Clay had started this club along with John Teller, but Jax never ever seemed to take that into account…the name "Morrow" wasn't tacked onto the garage sign after Clay and Gemma had tied the knot. What the hell was a 'binky bladder?' Whatever…Jax…poor little, lost boy…no one could help Jax, it was all about losing a father…a father who had scores of brothers that all had stood in for him, Clay most of all. But no, all Jax had ever done was scream that he was drowning, but push away any of the life preservers that had been thrown to him.

Opie…Tig was finally feeling pretty solid about the guy; that he was staying anyway, there would always be other shit to be worked out between them, and Joss…she'd always be in the middle of it and Tig was fighting that but accepting it even as he did. Ope was watching her again now as Joss sat talking and laughing with Hob-bitch and Chucky, the three of them standing with arms linked behind each other, smiling brightly as Chucky raised a camera in front of them and snapped a picture…Chucky still wore that damn tuxedo…Jesus Christ…but Tig felt himself laugh a little. The girl had good friends, more loyal to her than…well…Tig smothered that thought…Joss…she'd conquered so much today, faced horrors and happiness the likes of which no other seventeen year old could even imagine, and there she was, smiling and enjoying the people around her at the end of it all. She was amazing, Tig's queen…his sweet, dark, perfect angel…whatever Jax was bringing, it wouldn't come for awhile; there was no use in devoting thought to it at the moment…but Joss? Tig couldn't get her out of his mind even as he participated in the talk of things to come and nameless foes they'd one day face. Joss was nothing like her "brother," and Tig was done with Jax, in so many ways.

Joss respected what the boundaries had to be tonight and Tig was proud of her for that alone, but that's not to say she didn't cast evocative glances at her king that Tig could feel rushing through the deepest parts of him, all hurtling through to become part of something that had been building all night. She was in him, she was in him good, every one of his muscles responding with a twitch whenever he watched her smile or close her peridot eyes gently, as if she was laying back quietly and still, awaiting whatever touch she trusted him to exact upon her body. Then she'd smile, brush that long, shiny, black hair back over her shoulder, the red ends fluttering, and then she'd look away like a coy schoolgirl going back to her studies. She never once spoke to him or even trespassed onto this side of the clubhouse, she had her duties to see to, but it didn't matter, because they could feel one another from across the room. But now Tig's court was breaking up, Gemma seeking Clay, Juice wandering over towards Hob-bitch, grinning like an idiot about to make some goofy announcement, Happy seeking…hmm…he had Slinky Slinky Bitch over there with the baby, and there was DeDe sitting next to her, and they weren't pulling out each other's hair or scratching up each other's faces…kind of disappointing, really…but Tig let it slide…this connection he'd had with Joss from afar tonight was about to be strengthened…almost…

"How'd Chucky get to be a bridesmaid?" The voice from outside his head was startling and Tig looked at Ope a lot sharper than he would have any other time, but Ope didn't look back, his eyes were on Joss, but not just her…he was keeping an eye on the trio she was part of, seeing that no one disturbed them, making Tig for a moment consider Ope as his Sergeant at Arms…but no, that would definitely be Hap.

But Ope'd just noticed Chucky being all duded up though? Oh yeah, Ope hadn't been there for the wedding…but, yeah…how did Chucky get to be a bridesmaid? And why did Tig care right now? He wanted Joss…wanted her bad…but Ope, fuck…yeah, he and Ope needed to talk, sooner better than later. "I don't know," Tig shrugged and drank the beer that remained in the bottle he held. "Guess he showed up too late for Mother Goose to turn him into a glass pumpkin or whatever the fuck."

Ope nodded like he was laughing internally. "I'm sure he regrets that." But Chewbadooba kept watch over Joss, trying hard not to crack an amused smile…stupid Chewbadooba!

Hmm…things were feeling more normal, a lot more normal. This was likely as good as things ever would be between Tig and Ope…and really, this wasn't so bad. By not getting Tig, Ope still managed to somehow get him, seeing through cracks and reading between lines, and still finding meaning enough to not laugh at. And Joss, shit…Tig's queen was safe as long as Ope was around, Ope wasn't about to let anything bad happen to her. Maybe…just maybe, this could work? "Hey," Tig waited until Ope looked over at him, feeling a little too drunk on brotherhood for his own good at the moment, but right now, Tig didn't care. "You back? Like for good?"

Ope sighed and took a swig from his own bottle. "I was never gone," he said, then shook his head a little and kind of groaned lowly. "Not even when I wanted to be."

Tig's eyes moved to Joss again and he nodded. "I know how that feels." He acknowledged and it was so strange to remember how he'd fought so hard to not be close to that damn girl…because now he couldn't live without it. And when Tig looked back at Ope, Ope was nodding, like he understood what Tig had meant and wasn't arguing with it, wasn't about to tell Tig that he had a "funny way of showing" whatever prideful, loyal, affectionate thing he was thinking about Joss. Yeah…shit…this just might work. "VP slot's yours…if you want it," that wasn't the way Tig had envisioned himself offering that office to Ope, but now it felt a bit overwhelming to say out loud, it had sort of jumped up out of nowhere, but Tig was glad he'd said it, no matter that it was a bit too soon.

Ope's eyebrows shot upwards and he nearly choked on the beer in his mouth, now trying to hide all of it and covered his mouth to cough like some allergy attack had just befallen him, and Tig let him, not saying a thing or even watching the charades. Ope needed time; that was pretty clear. "In your regime?" Ope asked as soon as he was able to and Tig nodded, no frills or further explanations. "You sure that's a good idea?" He asked next, almost comically.

Finally Tig looked back, unrelenting in how he looked at Ope, a hint of annoyed frustration with Ope's reaction creeping forth, but only as much as Tig was going to need. "You want me to say 'no?'" He asked, ready to call that bluff, but hoping he wouldn't have to. Damn it Ope…c'mon…

But instead of snapping to with an answer, Ope's eyes roved back towards Joss, taking her in like he was sketching her in his mind and didn't want to miss a detail…fuck…Ope was either about to accept being Tig's vice president but only because he'd somehow be serving Joss, or Ope was about to reject the office because he was too in love with her to ever be loyal to Tig. Tig felt his teeth start to grit and he felt the urge to move or walk away or do…something…something that would have somehow been fighting to earn a "yes" out of Ope. Ope looked back at him, but Tig swore Joss's refection still shined there in his eyes. "One condition," Ope said, and Tig nodded quickly, eager to hear it but hoping it had nothing do with some stupid and indecent proposition about Joss…Jesus Christ…he was about to lose his fought for vice president when he denied Ope's request. "Our 'agreement,'…the one about…'sending her to you?'" Ope spoke with a hyper-clandestine tone that made Tig more anxious…shit, he should have known; Ope wasn't coming back or serving unless he could be excused from reuniting queen with king at the end. "Don't force her." Ope said directly, without looking back at Joss, his eyes holding Tig's steadily…that bullet…there'd been strings attach—"When the time comes, and she wants to go, I'll be there for her, I swore that to her, and I meant it. I'm swearing that to you now, Tig. But you have to promise me that if Joss doesn't want to go, for whatever the reason, that you won't hold her to it, or hold me to it."

Fuck…that was a cold, cold feeling…why would Joss ever leave her old man alone? This had been her idea; she'd already made her choice, damn it! Tig's annoyance went full scale and he snarled at Opie. "What the hell do you think would make her change her mind? She's not—"

"Normal? I know that, damn it!" Ope returned with equal irritation, "but she's eighteen, and there are still a lot of things she could be that neither one of you have predicted yet, so give her a little room in the decision!" Ope's eyes were intense and set, he wasn't backing down…and Tig was…fuck…considering what he'd said. It was hard to imagine that Joss wouldn't want to be with him even after her old man was gone…Tig knew the girl, he knew what she'd become without him…but what if…just what if…what if Ope was right? Opie sighed and the hardness in both his voice and features relaxed. "You love her, I know you do. So give her the freedom to change her mind. If you don't, then you're pretty much starting out in a hole with her, and there's nowhere to go then but down. That's all I'm saying."

Author's Note: Thanks to all of you for reading and my usual praise and I'm in my usual awe of those of you who review! If you only knew how much you all helped me get back on track this time! It was a long, hot weekend on the back of a bike for me and I'm still exhausted! This chapter wouldn't have gone up without the shot in the arm that reading your reviews provided me with. I know I've said it a lot, but BAD COMPANY, BOBGORGEFRED, BUDDHABABY, DUTCH'76, 4PAWDOC, FUNNYMICK , GO4ITGIRL, HMC16, KASSEY4221, LIVEFREEDIEWELL, SANDPIPER86, TOIA, and, VERDA NAPOLI you all really are awesome!

Also, this story is creeping into a weird gray area of epilogue that was never intended, but I'm having fun including all my faithful reviewers so it will continue. But if the next chapters seem a little gratuitous, they are. But hey, you guys are all worth it! Very very worth it!:-) Thanks again! - Grace


	69. Requiem

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of a sexual nature._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 69

It was completely pitch black inside the supply closet and it smelled of cardboard boxes, dirty mop water and industrial cleaners that Joss sometimes thought weren't used enough, but none of that really mattered to her. Once Tig's court had broken up he'd plucked her up from between Lauren and Chucky and Juice who'd been about to join them and without a word, Tig had slung an arm around Joss's waist and dragged her in here, keeping her against him, her hands balancing her upper body against his chest as the toes of her boots slid across the floor, Tig looking at nothing but her as he moved confidently backwards, one hand behind his back, smoothly turning the knob and opening the closet door, and pulling her into the depths of secret darkness like a grizzly bear hauling a kill into its cave. And then he devoured her, his mouth over hers immediately, unhindered by the total darkness that swallowed them, some part of him having memorized exactly where every part of her was.

The dorms were undoubtedly full by this time of night and Tig wasn't about to throw Joss down onto whatever square of queen sized bed remained go at it in a roomful of bikers fucking bitches that didn't' mean to them what Joss knew she meant to Tig. They'd talked about opening up what they were to the outside world of SOA, but there were things that Tig would never let anyone else see, some things were the sacred vestiges of a man with so little faith. No, the supply closet…dark and quiet…the four cinderblock walls that entombed them diffused the noise of music and shouted conversations enough to make them feel alone…alone and unable to see even the slightest bit of one another, hands and fingers constantly skimming and touching and groping, searching for one another even as their mouths connected and fused. They'd often kissed in the darkness of mid morning while laying in their bed, Tig's urges to fuck never slept even when the rest of him did, but there was usually some little bit of light from somewhere, the moon through the windows or the faint yellow shadow up the red stairwell from one of the lamp they'd left on downstairs in the living room. But it wasn't there now; there was only the feel of her man around her and her around him.

Joss knew it was some hypersensitive illusion of touch and darkness, but Tig felt so much bigger against her, his chest felt broader, his arms thicker, and she reveled in it, took all that she could from what it was her skewed senses described. He was deceivingly powerful, yet it was his strange fierceness that everyone backed down from first, some fear that perhaps he'd knock them down and rip out parts of them with his teeth, then eat them while they were still alive to watch. She didn't love a man, she loved a monstrosity, but Tig was big and barrel-chested, muscle and power that so often went untested coiled around her now and quivering with need. And she could feel it…all of it…the darkness hooding her eyes but making other visions bloom so clearly in her mind…and she wanted him, all of him, suddenly able to feel all that he ever was or would be from college quarterback to Army Ranger lieutenant to Sergeant at Arms to future king…her man. Joss gasped for breath against his kiss, both her hands cupping around the protrusion of the pectoral muscles that sat like boulders atop his frame, her want of him stabbing through her, the soft parts of her growing taut and tight within her jeans, nipples pushing at the cups of her bra and her body ached and throbbed with a pain so separate from that of ardor …it would hurt, but the way she wanted Tig outmatched the fear of how agonizing it would feel.

The snaps of his cut were boring into her belly where the strips of black, satin ribbon were brushed aside by Tig's hungry hands that ate up her flesh. His palms and fingers felt hot and tough and strong where they gripped her tightly at the narrowest part of her between her ribcage and hips, the shape of her body awakening even more need within her man and he growled, shoving her backwards until she lost her balance and fell against a stack of paper towels behind her, Tig stepping between her legs as her thighs parted and kissed her even deeper, like he meant to crawl into her. She tilted her head back to let him do what he liked but instead of feeling him more against her, Tig's mouth was suddenly gone from hers.

"You okay?" His voice was so low and hoarse that Joss would never have heard it had they not been surrounded by the darkness of the closet, and he was breathing hard and fast, the breath from his mouth felt like fire on her skin, but he'd stopped, realizing he'd once again gotten overzealous.

"Yeah," she answered quickly, then ran her fingers up his arm, over his shoulder, up his neck and then cupped his cheek in order to guide herself back to his lips, kissing him and wanting him to return to his unencumbered wildness, and he did. He pulled free of her kiss to master her with his own, his tongue taking over her mouth and making hers obey, one of his hands trailing down her hip all the way to the bend of her knee, grabbing her leg roughly and lifting it off of the floor, unbending it as he pulled it up right and placed her spiked heel up on his broad shoulder then put nearly all his weight against her, something hard, his belt buckle, now driving relentlessly into the wet soreness between Joss's thighs. It was difficult to judge what Tig wanted at times, he could so easily fuck her here, and she'd let him…let him? She'd beg him to, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, no matter how badly it was going to hurt to have that big, thick, eight inch cock slammed deep and then deeper. But somehow, Joss knew that's not what this was…Tig was very in need of what they shared, but somehow, there was another intention to bringing her into the solid and endless darkness of this closet.

Tig's arms tightened around her and he squeezed her with a deep almost loving groan, but as the pressure of his arms released, he was pulling away from her again, Joss leaning unconsciously forward trying to bait in him into another kiss that may go further than the last, but Tig turned his face from hers, her lips finding his jaw instead, but she kissed him anyway, moving down over his neck slowly, working her tongue against his stubbled skin until Tig made her stop, his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away as much as he could with her leg still up on his shoulder. It was dark, nothing but dark, but somehow Joss could feel that he was looking down at her.

"Is this really what you want?" He asked; his voice still husky but more control evident in each word he spoke.

What did he mean? Joss's brow furrowed in the dark as she tried to grasp just what his question meant…it wasn't about sex and how sore she was, that much she knew…and it couldn't have been about marrying him, neither of them had ever had second thoughts or cold feet, not even when Gemma was building them a fairy tale they both hated. Hmm…was this what she wanted…alone in the darkness with him? Oh! Joss sighed…damn it, Opie…what the hell were those strings? "Tig," she sighed, her hands climbing up his chest until they wound around his neck, ready to have him shake them off and escape their hold, but he didn't, he just stayed there against her and waited, like he really needed reassurance. "Come here," she smiled, hoping it showed in her voice that she did because there was no way for Tig to see it. She slid her foot carefully back down to the floor, encouraged by the way Tig fought her, clutching the bend of her knee and keeping her leg bent up to his hip, refusing to relinquish that twisted bit of intimacy as he allowed Joss to pull him closer and then closer, her head settling on his shoulder, her eyes closing against his neck, and she was still, breathing in one last breath, then holding it, her body didn't move…suspended in the passionate peace that hung between them.

A few seconds passed, shrouded in darkness, both of them as still as the night, her point being made in grave-like silence…or so Joss had hoped…but…,"What the hell, Joss?" Tig hadn't yelled or roared, but his usually annoyed tone desecrated the silence she'd hoped to impress him with, but Joss couldn't help laughing.

"Shhh!" She looked up, into darkness and demanded of him, quickly planting her head back down where it had been before and snuggled into him even more, but she could feel Tig shaking his head and about to mutter something else. "Just stop," she told him before he could complain again, "and be still…just…feel," she said and turned her head enough to press one little quieting kiss above the collar of his shirt, then once again tried to recapture that consecrated silence…but not for as long this time, she'd already figured out Tig's attention span for it, she'd have to narrate a little. "This is almost what it would be like," Joss's voice was just above a whisper, and then she closed her eyes again, feeling so good to be sealed into this darkness with him, their bodies close and this peace undisturbed. "Why wouldn't I want this forever?"

The creaking leather of Tig's cut marred the silence as the arm not clamping her leg to his hip closed around her, pressing her head even more against where it lay, and Joss was surprised when Tig just stood there in that dark solitude with her for nearly a minute, like he was feeling it, like he wanted some small glimpse of the eternity they'd share and Joss dared un-authenticated the moment with a smile. "Okay," Tig finally spoke, but his voice was hushed, afraid to disrupt what enclosed them. "But Ope's right, Joss; I won't force you to come with me if you ever decide you don't want to."

"Oh, Jesus, Opie!" Joss sighed, this simulated infinity reaching an end…damn it, she'd known that's what this was about! Ope…he was a good guy, a really good guy…but there were still parts of him that hoped for things that would never happen…he was too good a guy for his own good! Joss sighed once more and then raised her head from Tig's shoulder. There wasn't any use in arguing with him, Tig was trying to be a good guy too…and Tig was…just not the way Opie was. "Okay," she nodded at him through the dark, "Thank you for letting it be up to me, but don't you think for even a minute that I want to be here without you! Because I don't! You are my forever, Tig!" Her arms wrapped as much around his broad chest as they could and she hugged him tightly, feeling Tig's mouth come down gently against the top of her head and kiss her hair, his heart thundering against hers. "But if that's the provision Opie wants…if that's what he has to have…then fine, he should have it."

"Yeah," Tig stood in agreement, holding her to him in the never-ending darkness and then it was quiet once more, Joss in his arms, Tig holding her, awaiting the ravages of time that would forever combine them, making him her and her him…and Joss had never loved him more. She wanted to say so, but she didn't, Tig seemed so content to just be like this in the dark and have her near him…so near him…nearer to him than he liked to have her when he fell asleep…Joss's arms around him, caging him in the love she bore him…holding onto him, not letting him go…and then it all busted up, Tig's big body jerking and him fighting it, trying to make himself stay there and hold her, but…"Hey, I'm trying, I really am, baby…but you gotta promise me you won't be mad if after about fifty years or so of lying in the ground like this with you, that my bones jump up and dig a bigger hole for us cuz all this cuddling shit is creeping me out!"

And the practice run was over, Joss responding with a burst of laughter that might have been heard by anyone trying to listen in through the door. Tig…he was so ridiculous and so hers…pulling her into a dark supply closet, pushing her down onto a mound of paper towels and practicing being dead with her to make sure it was really what she wanted? How could she not? "God, I love you!" She sighed to him, her smile wide and bright in the darkness as her arms slid from around him, giving him the freedom he desired, visions of his lifeless voice ringing out from beneath the earth that lay over them for decades, Tig desperately ordering her to keep her "dust" on her side, making Joss laugh again.

"I know," he groaned, returning her foot to the floor, pulling her more upright and taking a step away from her and she could tell he shook himself a bit by the rattle of his wallet chain and Joss laughed again. "Just don't say that a whole lot right now." Tig requested, trying to sound annoyed like he so often did, but he was laughing with her more and more.

"So," this was done, even though Joss could tell Tig wanted a little more kissing and necking and making out, he just wasn't able to squish up next to her anymore, and she tried to not laugh again. "Feel like rejoining the living?"

She'd thought the door would just suddenly pop open and Tig would usher her out, but it didn't. He was quiet a few moments, took a deep breath. "Uh-uh," he grunted and before Joss could even be surprised, Tig was on her, full force, paper towels knocked over as she fell backwards and rolling under her body in the most fortunate of places, and her man was above her, kissing her, fingers ripping at the zipper of her jeans and then at his own, everything occurring in a whiz of darkness, Joss trying to keep up, to get her clothing out of his way and his out of hers, but before she knew it, her body burned with painful welcome of Tig's big,hard cock. She moaned and whimpered on one breath, trying to push him away and yet pull him deeper, praying that the soreness would subside because she wasn't about to stop him…never. And then her man…who'd been "creeped out" by all the "cuddling shit" wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her to him like he never wanted to not feel her there, and lost his fears in the rise of everlasting love.


	70. Shaken, Not Stirred

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Pre-fix:_ To my international readers, who I bow down to because of how you've mastered not one language, but two or three, I wanted to let you know that the esoteric word "Percale" in this chapter refers to a very dense, soft weave of fabric, and the word is pronounced "Purr-Cow."

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 70

It was after two in the morning, not many of the non-SAMCRO brothers or women left on their feet, the long run from wherever it was they called home, and all the booze, drugs and sex having worn most of them out. That was fine, Joss was longing for some time with her family, with the people she knew and loved best, and that had been impossible to secure what with all the raucous upheaval that reigned in honor of Tig's wedding and his new queen. The clubhouse had seemed so quiet, and so bright, when she and Tig had finally stepped out of the darkness of the closet, Joss trying to comb her long, black and red hair into place with her fingers…as if it wasn't obvious what had kept her and her man in there for as long as it had. She smiled, but oh God did her body hurt and burn…every step reminded some muscle of the way it hadn't been stretched or used in so long and internally she felt so scraped up, the movement of her thighs irritating the arch of chafed skin between them. This was temporary, but right now she wasn't sure how she was going to be able to ride home on the back of Tig's bike…the thought was staggering.

Tig had been watching her in an almost accustomed way, but an out of place sympathy and concern edged the look in his eyes as he caught her shoulder and pulled her gently to him, leaning down to her ear. "You want some ice?" He whispered, as if he'd left more than a few girls in the condition Joss now was, but she doubted he'd ever offered to get any of them ice.

"No," she answered defiantly, not about to act like he'd hurt her. The pain she was in wasn't his fault, it was just…well, it just was. She snaked her arm around his and took his hand, wanting to show him that she had no regrets, and that she didn't blame him, or trust him any less. "I'm just a little sore, but that's nothing when compared to the pain of missing you." Joss smiled, making Tig look at her and give her an annoyed head shake, but he couldn't hide his returned smile. She would get over this, she knew she would…but right now, she wouldn't have turned down an aspirin!

"You want to hang out, or head home?" He asked her next and interlaced the fingers of his left hand with the fingers of hers, still concerned for her and somewhat distracted by it, like he'd forgotten that their hands weren't exactly going to fit together like they usually did. But at the clink of metal and something catching between his finger and hers, Tig's crystal blue eyes widened, and Joss's attention was immediately down at their hands. What spooked him now?

And there it was; a ring. Tig wore lots of rings, bedecked with skulls and reapers, but this one was different; a new ring, black titanium like the one he'd threaded onto her finger at their wedding and taking up residence on the third finger of his left hand. Oh God! Tig…her man…her husband…was wearing a wedding band! And he knew she'd seen it, and Joss knew he hadn't wanted her to, not ever…as preposterous as that sounded, but then, he was Tig, he'd have hid that left hand ring from her as long as he was able to…but that hadn't been for very long. She looked away quickly, memorizing the details of it that she was able to collect in so short a time, not wanting to be tempted to stare down at his hand again, but she didn't have to, her fantastic memory forming the picture of the matte black eight millimeter band in her mind, counting how many silver threads were braided into the two pieces of cable that horizontally garlanded the top of it within two separate grooves cut into the titanium, a small, round, black diamond framing the silver lengths of cable on either side. It looked industrial, brave and bold and tough, not the ring of a man to be messed with; it was the perfect ring for Tig…the perfect ring…the perfect wedding ring! Oh God! There was so much overflowing inside of her that Joss knew she couldn't show, taking a deep breath to try to keep it inside, but there was so much shocked pride and awe overwhelming her…Tig, without any prompting or wishing on her part, had decided to recognize and honor their marriage by the wearing of a ring!

"Look," he began sternly, hunching over her a little, tucking his left hand behind his back so Joss couldn't see it anymore, searching for words like he was frantically attempting to try and save the Titanic with a cork. "Clay wears one!" He spat out defensively, though she offered no fight and wouldn't, waiting patiently for Tig to calm down, but still he back peddled, seeking out whatever excuse he could pull from the vague facts of the day. "We said show what we have to people, right? That's all I'm trying to do!"

He sounded as if Joss had just walked in on him with another woman…and it would have been his prerogative to have another woman, just like not marking himself as a married man was, but there was no other woman and Tig had put on a ring! Joss felt herself tremble a little, hoping it didn't show, and she pressed her lips hard against her teeth with her hand, refusing to smile, refusing to make this into exactly what Tig didn't want it to be. "I know," she sort of squeaked, happy pressure still building but with nowhere to escape. "I like it," the words floated out of her mouth like celebratory confetti, but Tig was yet to swat them away. "It looks like you."

"Yeah," he half grunted, not sure what else to say and he began looking around the clubhouse in hopes of finding some security issue that would immediately require the Sergeant at Arms to run off and handle…and then oddly enough, Joss watched Tig's clear, blue eyes settle on something that seemed to be the diversion he was seeking. "Look over there!" He suggested enthusiastically, going as far as to push at her shoulder to get her to turn away from him, and as she did, Joss wasn't surprised to hear him stepping away quickly, needing to duck out of this conversation before it made his head explode. She giggled, he was so goofy and she loved him so damn much, the feelings filling her up with a warmth like she'd never felt before…Tig was wearing a wedding ring…she could have melted away on that knowledge and it would have been okay to do that now because he wasn't here to have to watch her do it and want to puke when she did. For a moment Joss looked down at her own ring, the matte black titanium that matched Tig's, the beautiful ruby tension set in the center…he really had put some thought into these—Whoa! No, Joss couldn't have been looking at what she was looking at…how in hell had…why would she…oh God…Tara!

Chapter 70; Part 2

Eggshell wrapping paper with pure, white, frilly, little paisleys printed all over it, a big gold bow topping it all off. Not only was it the only gift wrapped in such a traditional wedding type of way, it was also the only gift! But, what else could Joss really expect from Tara? Even when Tara tried, she still didn't hit the mark. But, she was here nonetheless…at Joss's wedding…which was so… astonishing!

"I can't stay long," Tara was saying, still dressed in her scrubs, obviously having just come from work, and she looked more like she didn't want to stay long instead of that she really "couldn't." But then…deep down, Joss couldn't blame her, this was awkward! And it was still shocking too! Just when Joss had convinced herself she'd never even speak to Tara again, let alone see her, Tara just showed up, out of nowhere! They'd been friends once, best friends, they talked about so many things, had always been so unafraid to tell the other secrets they'd never whisper to anyone else…but now, it was difficult to manage a simple "hello." Tara's knuckles were white around the gift she held, and she pushed it into Joss's hands. "I'm sorry I missed the ceremony, but I did want to stop in to see how you were doing, and say 'congrats' to Tig and you."

What? Okay, yeah, so far what she'd said sounded like Tara, but the way she'd said it, like she'd made a conscious effort to say "Tig and you" and not "you and Tig" bounced off the walls around Joss. Part of her grew excited, hoping that hadn't just been a slip of the doctor's tongue, but it probably was…give a monkey a typewriter, sooner or later, he'll spell a word. Oh…what was Tara doing here? Really? "Where's Jax?" Oh hell…Joss had meant to say "thank you" for the gift that she now held, as out of place as it was…but still, she could be polite; she'd accepted all those damn drugs and cigarettes and beers without even wanting them, and for all she knew, Tara could truly have chosen something wonderful and useful and wrapped it up for her and Tig…Tig and her…damn it!

Tara's head lifted and she looked away nervously, her lower jaw kind of quivering as she sighed. "He's…um," she stopped and shook her head, finally looking back at Joss. "He's not here."

What? Hmm…well, if Jax had stayed home, maybe Tara really couldn't stay long, then? "Oh," it was more some kind a stupid noise than a word; Joss feeling like the world had been turned upside down. "So you're here alone?"

Tara started nodding, like a bobble-head, nervous and feeling so conspicuous. "Well, his name wasn't on the invitation."

Invitation? What the hell was she talking about? There'd only been one invitation that had been sent out, and it had gone to Gemma…whoa…wait…nope, there were two invitations…Tig had requested one, said he wanted to "send one out too"…holy God…there'd been too much going on at the time to ever ask Tig who he was sending that invitation too…but it was…wow…what the…before Joss knew it, she'd grabbed Tara by the hand and was pulling her towards the couch, nudging, sometimes kicking passed out hangarounds that littered the concrete out of the way, shoving and rolling passed out bikers off of the couch, making room for her and Tara to sit down…they needed to talk…they so needed to talk!

Chapter 70; Part 3

What kind of girl fight ended with an insult like "you fucking future cop?" Tig stood, still watching and shaking his head. He'd needed a distraction and this certainly had been it, two drunk hangarounds from the Tacoma charter looking like they might actually bust each other up. But it had fizzled into a lot of screaming and crying, one party too kind and the other ultimately too calm to start throwing punches. And now the girl who had seemed so obsessed with fighting was lying full out in the parking lot under her own power, so introverted now when compared to the combat intelligence she'd displayed earlier. And the other one was about to walk off, shouting back in response to the "future cop" comment with a sarcastic, "Oh yeah, maybe I'll book you!" before she wandered off on the arm of…of…shit, that was Koz…and he'd obviously been the catalyst of the alcohol suppressed action, and Cop-bitch was busy letting Kozik have it now too, yammering about how she didn't trust him and threatening to draw some kind of pictures of him and that "nerdy, little bitch" plugging her laptop into…something that was far from a wall outlet…and then put the artwork up all over his clubhouse so that all of his brothers would see it…yeah…someone should! But really, that kinda talk needed a slap to the mouth, but no one involved in that mess was sober enough to realize it or deliver it…and Tig already had too much on his mind to step in and do it himself, because it would have turned into more than just reprimanding that hangaround…Kozik…the backstabbing douche!

Yeah, that was better left alone…Tig's energies were better saved for Joss tonight. He could probably go back inside now, Joss was likely over his ring…he hoped…but she was right, it did look like him and he liked it too. It wasn't an ordinary wedding ring; it was a wedding ring that said he was married to a girl like Joss! Okay…if the girl wanted to fuss over it a little, that was alright…a little…just a little. Tig sighed, he'd have to face Joss and let her get to her fussing eventually, and Kozik's two bitches hadn't delivered the show they'd seemed to be promising…might as well get it over with. Hmm…Tara was here…Tara…God damn it, the name "Tara" was appearing in his head before the words "doctor bitch" did now with alarming regularity. Fuck! Not that it wasn't cool and all that she was here…but Tig had been so twisted up with love-shit that he hadn't even thought to set Joss and her on the path he'd had laid out for them in his mind…shit…there might be a girl fight to rival all girl fights going on in the clubhouse right now…fuck! Tig turned and headed back to the clubhouse, almost running as he did.

But there was no fight inside, nothing like that was happening…in fact, what was happening was even worse! There sat Joss and Tara on the navy blue and white plaid couch, drunk, snoring bikers at their feet, and the girls were hugging each other and balling their eyes out! God damn it! One more time Tig wanted to turn and bolt away…but he didn't…this was his fault kinda…he meant to tell Joss that he'd invited her ex-best friend, but he'd just never gotten around to it…besides, he hadn't expected that Tara…God damn it…he had to stop doing that…Tar-Bitch…okay, better…he hadn't expected that Tar-Bitch would really show up! But she had…and now this had happened!

This was stupid, really stupid…but Tig found himself dropped to one knee on the floor in between the crying, hugging girls, attempting to put this right…or wrong…right now, he didn't really care where it got put as long as they stopped fucking crying! "Hey," he hollered with a great deal of annoyance, and he really was annoyed this time…sort of…but his irritation didn't penetrate their sobs and tears. Shit, now what? Get them a box of tissues and a box of Mallomars? Jesus…Tig sighed, looking at Joss and then Tar-Bitch, an idea coming to him, and he pointed emphatically at Tar-Bitch. "Hey, look, future cop!"

Oddly enough, that worked…sort of like it had been the wet blanket on the other girl melee he'd been on the sidelines for outside, only now he had both Joss and Tar-Bitch starring at him with creased brows and shaking heads. "What?" They each asked in confused and exasperated unison, but hey, whatever…he'd broken up the pair of sob sisters.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tig made sure his annoyance was louder than theirs, still kneeling there on the floor and offering no explanation for the whole "future cop" thing. Why the hell should he? These two owed him more of an explanation for mewling and crying and snotting all over the couch…well, okay…maybe not "snotting"…yet.

Amazingly it was Tar-Bitch who spoke first, and she looked at Tig when she did so, still sort of afraid of him, Tig could see it flickering like a candle's flame in the wind as her eyes turned towards him. But damn, Tar-Bitch really was starting to get how things worked around here! It didn't matter what her business was with Joss, when the man that owned Joss stepped up, all the dealings would be through him! "I was just telling Joss how sorry I am," and then she started to tear up again, Joss with her, the two of them reaching for one another again, trying to comfort the other, another deluge of tears on the way and Tig felt a night's worth of beer, whiskey and hot wings start to curdle and bubble in his stomach…fuck…no, this girl bullshit was literally making him sick.

"Alright!" His hand flew between them, pushing them apart like a referee in a boxing match, somewhere about round eight when both fighters were so worn out they were leaning on one another instead of throwing punches. "Fine! It's done now! Over! Move on!" Jesus Christ he was so glad men didn't do this shit…men beat the fuck out of each other and that made so much more sense! Hmm…maybe he should get the girls outside into the boxing ring? No…they likely wouldn't go for that…he'd probably have better luck giving them each a tube of last year's lipstick color, blindfolding them and letting them have at one another until the time bell rang…hmm…for some reason, that was kinda hot…

Joss wiped at her eyes, getting a better hold of things now, because her old man had told her to and she'd always listen to him…and that made Tig want to smile…but he didn't. His sweet, dark, perfect, teary eyed angel glanced at Tar-Bitch one more time then looked back at Tig. "It's more than only that," she informed him, sounding a little bit snippy, but Tig by now knew what made her sound like that, there really was some other good reason for her snippiness. "Tara's leaving Charming. She's going with Jax to Texas."

Oh hell no! No! Fuck no! Wait? What the hell was all this? Tig had no true power over Tara! Tar-Bitch! Whatever the fuck her name was! But…shit…what was the club going to do for a doctor? What was Joss going to do for a friend? Okay, Joss had other friends, she and Hob-bitch were getting along great, and she'd really taken to Chucky, and Chucky to her…and even Ope figured in there somehow, or would eventually…but Tara was the first real friend that Tig had ever watched Joss make…damn it…doctor bitch had just seemed to be getting how things worked, she was almost in shape enough to fit in around here, and yet she was still doing stupid ass shit like following along behind Jax-hole to Texas? God fucking damn, not even Chewbadooba was that loyally asinine! Tig grit his teeth and sighed at the same time, turning towards doctor bitch. "That so?" He asked, but it was more like a growl, disappointment more than evident in both of the two syllables he'd gutted out. And doctor bitch nodded, more tears in her eyes…fuck…she was sorry…yeah she was…a sorry, worthless cunt…shit, how had this happened? So much progress had seemed to being made; fuck, Tig had almost started to like her, and then she betrayed him like this? God fucking damn it…she'd been acting so cool lately…asking Tig to get a blood test that night in the hospital because if Joss needed a transfusion, doctor bitch would make sure she got blood from her old man…rescuing his boy from the flames of some common incinerator…sitting with Tig in the chapel and telling him about his ostentatiously male chromosomal arrangement…doctor bitch hadn't had to do any of that…she hadn't had to tell him any of that…but she had, like she was trying to be nice, do him a favor…she could have kept all that a secret…wait…holy shit!

Doctor bitch was looking at him now like she knew Tig knew, and that this was something between her and him, Joss didn't know enough yet to understand, and that was fine. There were a lot of stories and explanations that Tig would be telling her concerning the twists and turns of what had evolved between him and doctor bitch…and how it was still evolving. Doctor bitch didn't have to show up tonight, she was obviously still uncomfortable here, but she also obviously still thought pretty highly of Joss…and doctor bitch also thought pretty highly of SAMCRO…because not only had she come tonight, but she'd also just confirmed the rumors of Jax heading to Texas…she'd told Joss, knowing Joss would tell her old man…doctor bitch was a local girl, grew up in Charming, she knew SAMCRO and while she never quite fit in, it was still part of her home here, and so was Joss. Doctor bitch knew Jax better than anyone else too, she'd seen firsthand how unschooled he was for something like he was taking on, and her dealings with SAMCRO, and Joss, had given her an idea of how wrong Jax was in wanting the uprising he was concocting…doctor bitch was warning this club! Holy fucking shit…Tara had turned SAMCRO spy!

Tig was nodding now, couldn't stop, his eyes on Tara and he didn't look away, but he could tell how surprised Joss was when he reached forward and grabbed Tara by the shoulders. "Okay," Tig said to her in the same tone of voice his jumpmaster used to have before Lieutenant Trager and the rest of his stick jumped out of a C-130 at twenty thousand feet. "But you ever need to come home, you get word to me. I'll get you back to Charming, you got a place here; you're with us!"

Tara blinked, trying to hide how relieved and how touched she was from Joss, and finally Tara nodded, her eyes dead on Tig's as if they had just shook hands…yeah…the two of them had something neither of them had ever dreamed having between them…and what it really was cool! Beyond cool actually…it was exactly what Tig and this club needed! And Joss…she was beside herself with what the fuck all of that was, looking at Tig, then Tara, then Tig, then Tara, and finally focusing on Tig, screaming with her black eyeliner smudged eyes for someone to tell her what was going on…but Tig couldn't, not right now. He needed another diversion…and luckily this one was sitting there on Tara's lap, crowned with a gold bow. "So what's this?" He grabbed the gift and began to tear at the seam of paper on the bottom, Joss, still a little snippy at having been left out of the loop that was so plainly there, snatching it back from him before Tig could get it open, but Tig only laughed.

Tara smiled at them both as the paper tore open. "It's something I thought the two of you would really have a good time using!" And there was something about the nearly sly look on her face that made Tig feel like one more time, Tara was starting to get not only this life and this club, but also him and Joss.

"Oh wow!" Tig couldn't see what it was yet, the paper was torn nearly all the way off, but it was still blocking his view, but Joss seemed pretty excited. "Egyptian cotton sheets!" She said triumphantly and held up the square package of black bed linens so that Tig could see them…and okay, yeah they sorta had a nice sheen to them and they were black and all…and yeah, he and Joss used the hell out of sheets…but…c'mon, they were sheets…

"I wanted you to have something special for your wedding night," Tara laughed; her and Joss looking at one another with smiles now and it was so much better than the lump of fitful tears and shudders they'd been when Tig had come in. "But I guess you're running out of wedding 'night,' aren't you?" Tara laughed as she glanced at her watch.

Joss laughed back, looking at Tara like Tig wasn't even there now, so lost in the whole "chicks rule" energy that was coursing through them…and kicking up the beer, whiskey and wings in Tig's gut again…but he'd be okay…maybe…he knew he could just slip away again if it got to be too much. "That's okay, we'll still use them!" Joss assured her friend, and her pretty, green eyes moved back to the sheet set again. "These are going to be great!" Joss smiled, more and more impressed with the fucking sheets…why? It's not like they vibrated or anything. But then she turned the front side of the package towards Tig and smiled at him. "Look, they're eight hundred percale!"

Huh? Oh shit…what the hell did that mean? Tig couldn't help the weird bit of fight and nervousness that crept into him, and he looked back at Joss with an apprehension that only she'd understand in his eyes. "How many cows?"

Author's Note: Special thanks to LIVEFREEDIEWELL and MELANTHIACHASE for participating in my "five to six word challenge" and agreeing to show up in this story. The words that LIVEFREEDIEWELL supplied me with were: CALM, UNTRUSTING, SARCASTIC, ARTISTIC and FUTURE COP. The words I had to work with from MELANTHIACHASE were: INTELLIGENT, NERD, KIND, INTROVERTED and OBSESSIVE. Thank you both for giving this chapter the "punch" it needed, no pun intended!lol I enjoyed "working" with you and Tig enjoyed meeting you!:-)


	71. Life Guards

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:_ If you're an animal lover, this chapter might be a little hard to read at times. Nothing very graphic, but…well, heck, it made me cry in places, and I wrote it! And no, unfortunately I didn't have to "make up" a lot the details in this chapter.

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 71

"I really hate these things." It was rare for Joss to ever use the word "hate" around anything horse related, but she did now…auctions like this one in Clements were terrible things to be around…all of these poor animals being ridden or walked passed her had a story that likely wasn't that terrific, and the ending to it was going to be worse. There was a whole oval shaped corral of beat up and bedraggled horses, mostly Belgians, Percherons, the occasional Clydesdale with those famous white feathers all matted and muddied around its enormous feet, all of them crowded together and awaiting the meat sale to begin…they were in what was known as the "kill pen," and the meat buyers were all standing eagerly around, their bidder numbers in hand and at the ready. Joss wanted to cry…and then beat the fuck out of all of them.

It was mostly men who surrounded the kill pen. Meat buyers tended to all look alike; they'd all taken a page out of the trailer-trash book, a lot of greasy mullets, dirty white T-shirts with cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve, filthy jeans with Skoal rings in the back pockets. They all drove huge, yet dilapidated pick-up trucks attached to massively long, silver trailers that were meant for cattle, not for horses. And they all smelled…but not like the good smells of warm barn, hay, straw and sweet feed. No, they smelled like old manure, stale urine and rotten flesh. Joss and Lauren stuck out sorely in this crowd and all the leering, piggish eyes of all the meat buyers had drifted over their breeches, quilted Ariat jacket and high, black boot clad forms at least once, but all at different times, sizing them up almost the same way they'd been sizing up the "meat" in the kill pen. Bidding against these assholes was going to be a fight, and both Joss and Lauren knew it. Meat men could be very competitive, and they didn't lose gracefully.

Lauren shook her head as she tried to hold onto the boldness that bidding here was going to take, but she shivered with sadness and disgust. "Yeah, I'd forgotten how dirty and terrible the whole atmosphere here is." When they'd talked about it, it felt like such a rescue mission, it had been so positive, they'd smiled and been so excited, both of them arriving here at the auction ready to save some lives…but now they were staring head long into why a rescue was needed…and it was chilling. Lauren sighed and looked over the condemned horses, doing about as well as Joss was when it came to not breaking down and then breaking bones. "This is so wrong."

And it was "wrong," and it was "dirty and "terrible" too. All of these horses had at some point been trained to trust and obey humans…to stand quietly when they were groomed and saddled, had learned to accept people and the care they gave them and learned how to please them. Joss didn't like the idea of anything being slaughtered, not anything, it was a big part of the reason she didn't eat meat, but at least cattle and chickens and pigs weren't taught and encouraged to bond with people, and then suddenly seen as burdens, and sent off into conditions like these, and then hauled away to be killed…and eaten! No animal deserved to go from "friend" to…to this. The horses in that kill pen all stood wide eyed and shaking and sweating, like they knew what was coming and were afraid to move…what would have been the point? They were jammed into that pen; there was hardly room for one of them to swish their tail. They were dirty and unkempt, manes and tails tangled and sticking up in frayed sprays of neglect, some stood only on three legs, whether due to the crowded conditions or some injury, Joss wasn't sure. And all of them trembled, nostrils flaring, scared to death…and having done nothing to deserve being tortured like this. Some cried and screamed and squealed in equine terror, one or two horse jammed into the center of the herd being knocked over and not able to scramble back up to their feet before the others, now jostled, had no choice but to step on them…the fearful, painful shrills of their shrieks grinding away in Joss's heart and her eyes filled with tears. And no one did anything to help…nothing…and it made Joss so…so…oh God…how was she going to get through this? But the pieces of tar paper plastered to each side of those horses hips with a lot number written on it, that sealed their fates…a fate that brought Joss nearly to her knees…made her one more time grip her own bid number hard to ensure that she still had it…she was number 237, she'd remember it forever. She and Lauren were going to get as many animals out of that hell as they could…but…oh God…where was Tig? This was why she'd asked if he'd mind coming with her, and she needed him right about now.

She wouldn't even be here if not for Tig, anyway. It was only two days ago, the Sunday after their club wedding, that she'd awoken to the feeling of Tig climbing above her as she slept, his kiss already on her mouth before her eyes opened or her body could react, but when Joss finally did awake and begin to join into the kiss, Tig had suddenly stiffened and pulled away immediately. She'd assumed at first that she wasn't supposed to move or breathe or notice…that whole deal again…but then he proved her wrong, groaning in some kind of frustration, then shouting "Fuck!" and sitting up, making Joss do the same. What had happened? She'd expected to see some rival gang member with a sawed-off pointed at both of them, but no…there was only Tig, who looked at her blankly and in his best, classically annoyed tone said, "Your birthday! Shit, Joss, why didn't you remind me?"

But all Joss could do was laugh…yeah, like her birthday mattered in the face of everything else they'd been dealing with! And then she began to realize that it did after all…it was a little scheming in a very catty sort of way, but with Tig feeling poorly about having ignored her birthday, it made it the perfect time to spring the riding school idea on him…and ask for his approval of it as a belated present. He'd hemmed and hauled and cranked and groaned per usual; he was always against something the first time he heard about it, but Joss didn't give up, sighting how SAMCRO's queen running a riding school, one that offered equine therapy, would definitely cement the club's good image within Charming's community. And Tig, though he tried, wasn't able to argue about that, and eventually, he'd said "go ahead," on a heavy and exasperated sigh that Joss had already felt changing her life in a way she'd never dreamed possible.

Her gift had come with three hundred dollars to buy lesson horses with…and that wasn't very much…Joss and Lauren amending their strategies and deciding to bid on the horses in the kill pen…they'd go cheaper than the supposedly more ride-able or better trained mounts in the main auction barn…and besides, saving a few horses from being literally crammed into a cattle hauler until they broke each other's legs when there was no more room, and then driven off to a slaughterhouse was exactly the kind of thing that made both Joss's and Lauren's heart jump for joy. But this wouldn't be easy…and Joss had known it wouldn't be…looking out on all of those animals in that kill pen, and knowing she couldn't save them all was excruciating, almost made her want to hide, just go somewhere and try to cry the misery of it all away…but she couldn't…and as a strong, dominating force slid up beside her, slinging an arm around her waist possessively, Joss knew she had all the backup she'd require, no matter how terrible this was.

"Don't do it," Tig could see the look on her face and the tears in her eyes, and he'd skipped any pleasantries and was immediately keeping her in line, his eyes also on the horses that were trapped in the kill pen, and the longer he watched them, the stronger and sterner his voice became. "Get your game face on, little girl! This is what you wanted; now you gotta fight for it!"

Joss nodded, Tig was right…he was always right when it came to these kinds of things…yet another reason she'd wanted him to come with her, and he wasn't letting her down. Tig did love animals…he knew precious little about horses, but he'd started to care a whole lot more after Joss had explained to him how horse slaughter was illegal in the United States, but that meat men were still able to truck their loads up to Canada, or worse yet, Mexico…where there were no sanctions in place for the humane killing of animals, and the cheapest methods were generally employed…meaning that horses were usually stabbed in the spine repeatedly until they were paralyzed, and then their throats were cut. Joss shuddered and felt sick to her stomach even now as she recalled that conversation she'd had with Tig about it, knowing it would win him over, and it had. Tig would do all kinds of shit to a man that he'd never dream of putting an animal through…though he'd never say so, of course. But oh God…all the knowledge she had was overwhelming…California was much much closer to Mexico than it was Canada…oh God…all those horses in that kill pen…oh God!

"Josselyn!" Tig yelled her name loudly enough to make the already hypersensitive animals in the kill pen snort and squeal, and Joss herself jumped in surprise. She'd gotten lost for a moment, felt as trapped in horror as those horses were, and Tig was right to jar her out of it. "Look at me!" He ordered her as she struggled to find her way still, but at his command, Joss's head raised, Tig's thumb and finger hooking her under the chin like they usually did and lifting her eyes to his. "This ain't the time or the place to start crying, baby! You wanted to do this, so I'm letting you do this! But if you don't think you can, I'm taking that bid number away from you and I'll do it…and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, so you better hang tough!"

Chapter 71; Part 2

"Sold to number 237!" The auctioneer barked, but was now looking Joss and Lauren's way and afforded them an impressed wink. Tig stood behind Joss in quiet, but staunch support while both she and Lauren worked out how and when to jerk their bid number up in the affirmative, both of them a little less shell-shocked now, looking at each animal with a critical eye, their hearts still guiding them, but not blindly. They needed to buy the horses that they knew they could save, not the ones with all the earmarks of being heartbreakers that they'd try for days, maybe weeks, to nurse back to health and fall in love with them, only to have to put them down anyway. But so far, they'd managed to save the lives of four horses, one big sorrel Belgian mare with flaxen mane and tale that stood about seventeen hands high. Then a pair of Percheron geldings, one black and the other gray, and just now a seriously huge blond Belgian stud who even Tig acknowledged was a good four inches taller at the shoulder than his six foot two inch frame. Joss and Lauren were both very excited about having won that purchase, high fiving one another and all smiles…but their victory had seemed to piss off one of the meat men standing opposite them on the other side of the kill pen. He'd been vying for that big hunk of poundage right up until the end, Joss managing to beat out her competition in the final second with the subtlest little wave of her bid number.

The meat man stared at her and Lauren, his eyes disappearing into the folds of his fat, red face as he sneered at them, then spit out a long line of brown tobacco juice, wiping his chin, and cussing them both under his breath. He was a short, pot bellied, disgusting lump of a man in a plaid, western type shirt that he wore open down almost to his hairy navel, his big belly shaking like a water balloon as he turned more towards the girls, continuing to mutter something that Joss couldn't hear, but didn't have to. He'd already bought far too many horses, more than anyone else standing here had, and Joss hated him for it…the kill pen was three quarters empty now, most of the big ones gone, and now owned by Joss and Lauren…and the meat man just glared heavily at both girls…at least he did until Tig noticed and glared back harder…turning just enough to flash his cut like it was a cobra's hood. The fat, horse killer relented, looked the other way…but somehow, Joss knew the asshole wasn't smart enough to just leave it at that.

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading and for reviewing! I love you all so much for it that I hunkered down and finished this chapter to put up since I missed posting one on Monday. Today's my birthday, and I told my man I wanted 2 hours to get this done, and he kindly consented! So, thank you Med for my present, and thanks again to all of you for your support, your words, and the wonderful things they do for my writing! Everyone who reviews more in this story than they know! Thanks again and happy weekend! - Grace


	72. Plow Horse

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 72

That was a damn big horse! Tig had never thought horses came that fucking big…the damn thing was easily six feet six inches tall at the shoulder, had to weigh more than a ton, Tig was figuring about twenty-three hundred pounds, and those hooves…shit…shoes for that big, blonde bastard musta been the size of a dinner plate! Beautiful animal, nearly white mane and tail and golden coat, all muddied up and shaggy, but Tig had every confidence that Joss and Hob-bitch would have that horse shined up into something formidable in no time…yeah, beautiful animal…beautiful animal…but somehow, that wasn't stirring the things in him that Tig had been concerned about having stirred when Joss had asked him to come to this auction. It must have only been cows that had some odd power over him…cows…no…no…no…eight hundred cows…no…shit…no…n—Moooooooooooo! Fuck! God damn it! But what the hell was he supposed to do? He was grossly outnumbered! There was eight hundred of 'em!

"Look out!" Just which one of the girls had screamed wasn't clear, but Tig came out of his mental fit just in time to see the big guy come barreling, backwards, out of Hob-bitch's trailer, giant hooves thundering down the ramp, the whole rig, truck and all, rocking like a boat on stormy seas, and the big, muscled stallion bowing up his thick neck and tossing his huge head, snorting like a bull, his brown eyes wide with confusion, fight and fear. Joss and Hob-bitch had been trying for over an hour now to get him loaded into the trailer; the other three horses had walked on with minimal uncertainty and mistrust, and they'd been waiting worriedly for the last of the rescues to finally board the freedom train…but nope, that Mack Truck of a horse was having none of it. Not that Tig could blame him. The last time someone loaded that big brute onto a trailer, he'd ended up at this shithole auction!

Inside the trailer came heavy, frustrated and tired sighs, each of the girls shaking their heads at one another, Joss holding tightly to the two chain shanks that she and Hob-bitch had been forced to thread through the noseband of the big horse's halter. This was a difficult, yet delicate, problem. Everything Tig knew about horses was encompassed by the phrase, "My old lady likes horses," but even he could feel the gravity and the hazards of the situation they were in. They had to get this horse loaded, there was no other way to get him back to Hob-bitch's farm, but no one could force a horse that fucking big to do anything he didn't want to do, or was too scared to do. And trying to beat him onto the trailer, or scare him on, was absolutely not the correct answer. Standing here looking at how large and how powerful that animal was, Tig all of a sudden understood full force how important it was that this horse learned he could trust Joss and Hob-bitch…because if this big, yellow stud didn't trust them, he'd kill those girls in no time flat. No good relationship could ever be based on fear and pain…and that was a concept that Tig never cared to grasp…but he had for some time now…Joss…that damn girl…Tig was worried for her; that was a big, damn horse! But at the same time, he was also so impressed with her and proud of her, giving her all to be something that this fearful, mistreated, dangerous beast could trust, not yelling at him, not screaming at him, not grabbing a whip and opening up on him, and she wasn't giving up on him either. She'd do whatever it took to win that big, bruised and broken creature's trust…no matter how badly he could hurt her…Joss…

"Okay," Hob-bitch took a deep breath, re-grouped, calmed down and got back in touch with her logic. "He won't walk on up the ramp, he won't jump on if we raise it up, we tried walking him in circle after circle as we lead him up to the trailer to no avail…but he had both front feet halfway up the ramp when we started tempting him with a bucket of grain…so, I guess we just keep that up?" She looked at Joss and stated in a very questioning kind of way, shrugging her shoulders as she still held the half empty feed bucket they'd been holding out under the big horse's nose.

Joss sighed herself again and looked up at the huge animal that towered over her. The horse was still nervous, his eyes trying to look at everything that moved or seemed as though it might, but he wasn't jerking Joss around anymore like he had been. "I guess," Joss finally replied to Lauren. "It's not like one of us can try to lead him in while the other two of us get behind him and band our arms together around his ass and try to push him in…he's too damn big!"

Lauren nodded, very much in agreement to that, and set the feed bucket down. "Well, let him rest and calm down a little; then we'll give it another try, I guess."

The mood here was really in a downward spiral and it fucking sucked that Tig was so useless when it came to knowing what to do and had no idea what suggestion to make as to what to try next, but it was easy to see that Joss and Hob-bitch had exhausted their bag of tricks, and were just plain exhausted too. That was a lot of horse to fight…a lot of horse…the first time Tig had stood next to the animal all he could think was "Joss, don't you fall off of this damn horse!" That would have been a hell of a way down, but now his fear extended to her trying to get that enormous, frightened beast into a small, metal space where she was more than vulnerable to the pounding of those mammoth feet should she fall or trip or be otherwise knocked down. This really wasn't safe…not for anyone…not even for the colossal animal; the veins in his thick legs and his heavy neck jumped and throbbed with his palpitating heart rate…the big guy was so scared and so pissed off…looked like he felt exactly the way Tig felt when a cell door slid shut in front of him…but there was no way to explain to the big, blond horse that where he was going was a good place, not a bad one. Shit…this really was frustrating…and Tig wanted to help…but how?

"Alright, look," Tig's voice grabbed the attention of both girls, Joss having come out of the trailer now and slacked up on the lead shanks she held, letting the giant horse put his head down to nibble at the sparse grass in the field that vehicles could park in around the auction barn. "Maybe I can get Opie here; he's big, me and him both played ball. We could try that 'arms banded together' shit you talked about. Me and Ope might be strong enough to hoist his ass in there."

But that suggestion was met immediately with negative looks and the shaking heads of both girls, Hob-bitch looking at Tig with a grateful, yet unmoved visage. "He's a lot heavier than you think, Tig. Besides, if he gets scared, he'll have a major adrenaline fueled fight or flight response and be ten times stronger with you and Ope trying to push him in here."

Before Tig could even agree or disagree Joss was looking at him, a "thank you" shining solidly in her peridot eyes, part of her so happy that he'd offered to help somehow, but the gray paleness of her skin speaking volumes of the fear Tig's suggestion had put into her. "Lauren's right, Tig," she said and she shook her head, looking up at her old man like she was begging him to please stay safe. "If he kicks you in the body he'll break your spine, and if he nails you in the head…" Joss's voice trailed off, too afraid to even finish that sentence; she just stepped up beside the massive animal and patted his brawny neck, almost like she was now begging him to spare her old man.

But Joss's words left Tig less impressed with maintaining his own safety…shit…that beast could do some serious damage, and Joss was just…well, she had her moments that left even Tig scrambling to get control of her, but against a horse the size of the one she was battling with now? Fuck…someone had to do something before that horse, or Hob-bitch, or Joss got seriously hurt…or worse! No…oh hell no…no one was going to get hurt…or worse! Tig had never been in a situation where he was trying like hell to protect Joss from being hurt by something that he was also trying to keep protected, but now he was…but hot damn if this wasn't just the kinda shit his fucked up brain could handle! A solution leaped up, bright and clear in Tig's mind, something so fucking strategic and logical he had to glance down at himself quickly and make sure he wasn't wearing desert camo BDU's, combat boots and lieutenant's bars.

Tig's eyes looked passed the long, white and blue horse trailer and focused on Hob-bitch's silver Dodge Ram, then he looked at Hob-bitch squarely. "You got a winch on the front end of that truck, right Lar?"

"Yeah," She answered, but both she and Joss looked at Tig like what he was thinking was crazy…and maybe it was…but he could see it working in his mind…and not just working, but working safely!

"Unhitch this tin can," Tig told her, his elbow shrugging towards the trailer. "Then turn the truck around. One of them vendor tables back there had lengths of chain for sale; I'll go pick some up. We'll hook that lead rope to the chain, hook the chain to the winch, thread the whole deal through the trailer window and pull him on nice and easy. We can turn off the winch when he struggles; that way, he'll be able to stop and rest when he starts to freak out, but he won't be able to back up, and no one will have to be behind him to get kicked, or stomped when we try to move him forward again."

Lauren looked at Joss and Joss at Lauren, but neither of them said anything, still working it out in their minds…maybe even a little astonished that Tig had come up with a plan like that, or that he cared so much about this. But Tig wasn't about to let Hob-bitch, and particularly not his sweet, dark, precious angel get hurt! And that gigantic, blond horse…Tig had kinda connected with that gargantuan, stronger than devil piss, dinosaur on hooves that would bust heads and kick asses before he'd let himself fall into the hands of hell. But Tig needed the girls to act, this was going to take team work, damn it! He looked briefly at Hob-bitch, but then his eyes went to Joss and stayed there. She met his stare, reading the soothing notes in his eyes. "Clay's grandparents had a ranch, it's been awhile, but he's had some horse experience." Tig told her, able to tell that Joss was still a bit apprehensive about this. She'd only owned that huge, damn horse for an hour or two, but she already loved him and didn't want to do anything that was going to hurt him or scare him further, but Tig knew this winch idea would work…he just knew it would…but if it was going to take Clay, her "father" here to hold her hand and tell her everything would be fine, then…"I'll get him here, if you want him, Joss."

And then an engine coughed and sputtered, screeching to life as gears shifted like some gasoline fed monster belching its lunch, and tires lurched and squealed, biting into the gravel and dirt, spinning as they fought for traction. Clumps of grass flew backwards as a large, rusted and dented, diesel pick-up truck hurtled forward, straight at Hob-bitch's trailer and truck, at the huge, defiantly scared horse, and Joss. Tig looked up, blood running cold with shock, then turning to a boiling slag in his veins when he saw that short, fat, tobacco spitting cocksucker from the kill pen at the wheel of the oncoming truck. The fat ass was going about forty on this grass, horn blaring, and there wasn't time to try and push Joss and the horse out of the way, the big horse panicking blindly before anyone could move, rearing up on his back feet, taller and angrier than anything Tig had ever seen before, his massive, front feet coming down within inches of Joss. She fell backwards off of the trailer ramp, the crazed animal leaping over top of her, over a ton of beast landing with an earth shaking 'thud' onto the ramp and rushing madly into the trailer, his only means of escape, but nearly pinning Hob-bitch between his heavy body and the panel inside the trailer, but she managed to bail out of the open side door just in the nick of time. But Joss, stunned and likely not certain she hadn't been trampled, lay frozen on the ground, the dilapidated pick-up truck turning sharply in her direction, the balding tires whizzing past her head only a foot or so away, hauling a massive, silver stock trailer behind them, jam-packed full of horses that weren't as lucky as the horrified four that kicked and whinnied and rocked Hob-bitch's trailer now.

And then the fat, dickless little cocksucker was gone…driving away…but extending one arm out the open window of his piece of shit truck, waving a middle finger triumphantly in the air at Hob-bitch, Tig…and Joss. Tig felt lightening lash at his back, splitting a long hot crease down his skin, something fiery and hellish emerging through it that wasn't him, and yet was all at the same time…his eyes locked onto that truck and that trailer…suddenly in touch with how Joss's memory worked…4T83H24…he'd remember that tag number…forever…the ungodly touch was upon him now...his body was stiff and still, but in other ways Tig was already running...flying through the grass and gravel, tearing off on all fours, nose twitching, jaws snapping…no longer a man, but an animal…

"Oh my God!" Hob-bitch's scream broke Tig out of his gore soaked trance and he was startled to see that he hadn't been running…on all fours…but Hob-bitch was running, around to the back of the trailer, having the presence of mind still to heave up the ramp and quickly latch it, closing all four horse safely away inside, then grabbed Joss's hand, pulling her back to her feet as Tig finally was able to make a move that wouldn't have been lethal. "Are you okay?" Hob-bitch was asking Joss, but Tig, in his fury pushed between them, grabbing Joss violently, like he was yanking her away from something big that held her captive, stuffing her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her until she was nearly hidden.

"Baby," his voice was quiet, muffled against her hair, his face buried in it, now realizing that maybe she wasn't okay…he hadn't seen the horse make contact with her, nor did it look as though the tires of the truck touched her…but it had all happened so fast…and Joss just shook in his arms…shook like a thing hunted to its death, and Tig seethed…raged and ripped at what sanity lingered on in him, forgetting once more where he stood…running…claws dug into the earth as he bounded across a shrinking distance between himself and that fat, insolent motherfucker!

Something moved against him, straightening up within the cocoon of his arms, and Joss's face hovered up at him…Tig's breathing was hard and heavy as if he really had been running…but he looked down at Joss, inspecting everything, his fingers dragging over her chin, her cheek, around the contours of her pretty, green eyes…and she drew a deep breath, steadying herself, and him. "Are you and the horses okay?" She asked him, no regard for herself anywhere in the fear that bled out of her eyes into her voice, and Tig seethed, and raged, and ripped…and could taste blood…

"I think we're okay," Hob-bitch answered, shaken still herself, Tig one more time shaking off this energy that was out place where he currently stood…but he bottled it, corked it tightly, would let it sit and ferment into something stronger…it would be there when he needed it. Joss was scared, but unharmed, the horse had gotten himself clear, and Hob-bitch was intact but frightened herself. Hob-bitch was cool, she always had been, and she was Juice's girl, and Juice was Tig's brother in Tig's club…and Tig would be king one day…and that made Hob-bitch his too…that fucking shit fucker…no one did that shit to his girls…especially not to Joss…no one! Tig extended an arm and pulled Lauren to him as well, Lauren surprised by the gesture, but not fighting it, both she and Joss clinging to him now, the three of them breathing a collective sigh.

"What the hell was that?" Joss's voice was a little steadier now, but she was struggling still to make sense of it all…but that was okay…Tig would handle that.

Tig looked down at her and Lauren, but he nodded to himself. "I'll tell you…when it's over."

Author's Note: Thank you all, as always, for reading and for reviewing! I can't say that enough! This section of the story wasn't planned, but your reviews are guiding me through it like you'd never believe! Thank you!

Also, if you haven't already noticed, there is now a link posted on my profile page that connects to a Photobucket album called "Tijo." I've been asked in the past if I have pictures of things like Joss's many wedding dresses or of some of the horses and other things that I have written about in my story. So, I have finally put all of those things together in an album for anyone who is curious to go visit. There are titles and descriptions for each picture so you will know what you are looking at, and there are also two wonderful sketches made for me by the amazing ALYKAT4LIFE of Joss in the SnoBall dress and her black dress. I encourage you to check those out! If you like, you can leave comments on the pictures or ask any questions about them on the album site, or just post them in any reviews you leave, I'm always happy to answer any inquiries my readers have about anything! Thank you all again for all that you do for me! I wouldn't be half the writer I am without you all! - Grace


	73. The Horse's Mouth

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 73

The sun was just about setting as Lauren closed and latched the big, aluminum stock gate; all four of the new horses now standing in the center of the field Joss and her had set up as a quarantine pen for them at Lauren's farm. They'd have to stay in that quarantine pen, large and grassy though it was, for at least a month before they were turned out with Skip, Markus and Sam, to insure they hadn't brought any communicable equine diseases home with them from the auction. It had been a very trying day, emotionally and physically, but at least the work that was in front of them when the girls had gotten their new charges home to Lauren's pushed a lot of the edginess and shock of nearly being run down away. But for Joss the sting of the deliberate near miss lingered in a particularly hurtful way.

"He hates me now," Joss said, her eyes not leaving the massively big, blond Belgian Draft stallion who ambled his way around the run-in shed, checking it out and already deciding what was going to be his in that quarantine pen. He was definitely a leader and would have his little herd of three followers well in line behind him by morning, no doubt. Tig had taken his bike and followed the girls in the truck and trailer to the auction, and after the meat man had left his calling card, Tig had taken off once it was clear that no one, with two legs or four, was hurt…Joss's man hadn't said where he was going, but Joss was pretty sure she knew.

That had left only Joss and Lauren to unload the new horses at the farm. But that was fine, they could handle that. Each girl had been flanked by a powerful, heavily muscled Draft on each side as they walked them into the quarantine field, intending to walk each pair that they held by lead shanks around the perimeter of the fence so the horses would know where the boundary lines were in their new situation. Each one of these Draft Horses could easily pull eighteen hundred pounds by themselves, maybe more; horses this big would have no trouble going through a fence if they wanted to, particularly if they got racing and running and didn't know where the fences were to begin with.

Lauren had taken the Belgians, the big, sorrel mare in one hand and the biggest horse that Joss, or Lauren, had ever seen in their equestrian lives, in the other. Joss couldn't help but laugh, Lauren was so small and the horses were so lofty and wide…Lauren was just a skinny pair of legs and tall boots hanging down between all the horse-flesh. The huge blond stud walked easily and calmly down the ramp, no fuss or fright, he was just so curious and eager to get at the grass he could already smell. Once Lauren had lead the two Belgians clear, Joss stepped into the trailer, untying both the tall, stocky Percherons, the shaggy gray one on her left and the big, solid black one on her right, Joss lost in between them herself, their withers a good five inches above her own head, but both the gentle giants stepped right off the trailer as easily as they'd stepped onto it, and Joss lead them both along behind Lauren and the two big Belgians.

Everyone seemed calm, the girls included, focused on their horses and checking them over as they walked with them, looking for any bumps or scratches that would need some Wound-Kote before Joss and Lauren would feel good about leaving them to their own, but all four of them were in good shape, and though they were all still very baffled by what the hell had happened to them or where they were now, they all seemed to know they were safe in this new, strange place, and it felt so good to see that. Once Joss and Lauren felt confident that everyone understood that there was a fence line and where it was, they lead all four of them over to where the automatic water-ers were, encouraging each horse to stick their muzzle into the round hole of the apparatus that stuck up out of the ground like a big, covered drinking fountain. The automatic water-ers were great, always supplied the horses with cool, clean water directly from a below ground source, and it was also great for Lauren and Joss who didn't have to haul bucket after bucket of water two or three times a day to each paddock. Besides, water buckets always collected debris from the field and mud and grass from off of the horse's muzzles, and that meant algae growth. But not anymore, the automatic watering system was the best investment the girls had made, other than the new horses they'd rescued. But not every horse came from a place that had these new fangled kinds of things and neither girl was about to let any of the new Drafts go thirsty because they weren't versed in how the watering system worked.

But they'd seemed to understand how to get a drink and were eager to go exploring around in their new quarantine pen and Joss and Lauren were delighted to unbuckle each horse's halter and let them go, free to look around and do whatever they liked…they were home. And that's when the colossal, blond Belgian stud was able to turn around and when he did, he saw Joss standing there in front of him. All the calmness and curiosity in his bright, brown eyes evaporated, changing over to fear, shock and anger in an instant, and he pinned his ears down flat against his massive head, lunging at her with his big body, but didn't charge, just turned away quickly and shot off with a snort, kicking both his heels at her as he tore away from her…before another horn blew and another pick-up truck tried to kill him…

Joss stood with Lauren now, looking at the huge horse from outside of the quarantine pen and sighing, knowing what he associated her with making it even harder to get over what had happened, even though she'd been unhurt. She'd only wanted to help and she'd really liked that big Belgian, had fought hard to keep him away from the immoral meat trade…but that horse ran away from her like she was something even worse than what Joss had saved him from. Joss had been hurt many times in her life, by many people, but this was a different and more far reaching kind of pain. That stupid asshole…Joss's hatred of the short, fat, disgusting man now exceeded her disapproval of his profession, it was personal! The meat man had taken that big, huge, magnificent blond Belgian stallion away from her, even though Joss had won the bidding contest! Tig…Joss sighed, there was some relief in knowing who she was married to and property of…she didn't love a man, she loved a monstrosity…that meat man would pay…dearly…but even after that wretched, little, fat man suffered, that big, huge, magnificent, blond Belgian stud, that Joss had fought so hard to save, would still hate her.

"Joss, come on," Lauren patted Joss's shoulder as they watched the big horse, who wouldn't even turn in Joss's direction now, "he's a Draft, they're not known for holding grudges. He'll get acclimated and settled in, and he'll be a whole new horse in no time."

Joss nodded but she couldn't get to where the happy ending was yet. "He thinks I tried to hurt him, Lauren." She said, and had to look away from the big, blond stallion as she said it. "The only thing he knows about me is that all hell was breaking loose and I had a hold of him while it was happening." Joss sighed…this was one of the worst feelings she'd ever had come over her, even if she fully understood that none of what had happened was her fault and that she'd done all she could for every horse they'd bought that day. Knowing that one of them honestly felt that she'd put him in danger was…wow…Joss couldn't come up with a word for that. "He hates me."

But Lauren wouldn't accept that, standing in with Joss like a good friend was supposed to, not willing to let this be a bigger deal than it was…no matter what had occurred at the auction and what Tig was likely to do about it. "Joss, go home, take a hot bath, get some rest and we'll start over again tomorrow. It'll be a new day, and a busy one. We've got the vet to call and four wellness exams to schedule, as well as getting the dentist to come look at these guys, not to mention the farrier, all four of them need a hoof trim, badly. You'll have plenty of chances to show that horse what you really are and how much you care." Lauren suggested, and managed a smile even though she was obviously still flustered and uprooted herself, not likely to ever hear a truck's engine and not flinch again. "That horse doesn't 'hate' you; he just doesn't know you yet, you know that." She furthered and then her smile became more of a smirk and she looked over into the field where Skip, Markus and crazy Sam were lined up against the fence, whinnying away at the new arrivals, announcing that this was their turf, and trotting up and down the fence line with pricked ears and pitched tails, strutting back and forth like peacocks and not horses. "That one 'hates' you," Lauren laughed and pointed to Sam, who was making the most noise and prancing around like a football player doing an endzone dance. "But you don't let that stop you!" Lauren laughed again, and finally, eventually, so did Joss…her relationship with Sam was complicated to say the least.

"Okay," Joss's eyes held Sam, the nutcase didn't really "hate" her, she knew that, but the big goof definitely enjoyed pushing her buttons and testing her nerve. In fact, as soon as Sam realized Joss was looking at him, he stopped his antics, noticing the "gossip girls," as Joss and Lauren called the six Plymouth Barred Rock hens that had free range of the farm, ducking under the bottom fence rail and clucking along into the paddock where Sam stood…and almost instantly the long, lean, dapple gray lunatic began to jump and kick and squeal as he watched the hens…or the horse eating chickens as he seemed to want Joss to believe. "Hey, idiot! Knock it off!" Joss shouted down to him, but she laughed…it was like Sam knew she needed to.

Beside Joss, Lauren laughed too, Sam beginning to run low on energy and his larking about slowing to a halt and he walked off again, out of breath, huffing and puffing and both the girls laughed again. "It's nice to have a clown-prince here," Lauren said, smiling at Joss's crazy horse, and then she looked back at Joss. "Everything will work out, okay?"

"Okay," Joss replied, but not because she was able to believe it yet, but it was getting darker and she and Lauren were both worn out. It had been such a great day and yet such a terrible one…and it wasn't quite over with yet…Joss had heard nothing from Tig that would have indicated it was, anyway. "Hey," she began and turned to Lauren, her thoughts suddenly full of how Tig had taken both Lauren and her in his arms and hugged them to him, keeping them safe and letting them feel that they were. "Call Juice; don't stay alone tonight, okay?"

Lauren nodded, but her complexion paled a bit with fear, but she pushed it away again and smiled at Joss once more, sighing at her with over embellished admiration. "No crown on your head, but already speaking with the wisdom of a queen…"

Chapter 73; Part 2 

"In!" I think I said it first, I know I said it loudest, but Juice was right there with me, volunteering to be part of this mission to go beat down some fat horse trader, or whatever, that had tried to run down both Joss and Juice's girl. I have no idea really what Tig is talking about, he's too pissed off to make with all the details, but I'm good, I know what I need to know, and I know what I'm capable of when it comes to shit like this. I know this guy is Tig's and I'll respect that…but if anyone is going to hold this fat, reckless driving bastard up so Tig can punch him in the gut until he's spitting intestines, it'll be me!

Tig looks around the table, but there aren't many of us here. This isn't official club business, not all of us are present, but me, Juice and Clay are all meeting Tig's stare, swearing our allegiance to this cause. Tig nods, obviously happy with what he's got in us, and when his eyes get to me he stops, looking at me like…like he's glad I'm here, like he's honored to have me fighting beside him and it just wouldn't have been right not to have me part of this…like he was counting on me. I'm his choice for VP…and I'm still not sure how that feels or if I'll ever get used it, but right now I'm okay with things. Right now I can see that Tig and I have some important shit in common; the club and Joss, and if we've got that to fight for, then there are no vengeful feelings separating the two of us, and positively no stopping us. Huh…Tig must have know that it would work this way with me as his VP…I hate to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, I haven't given him enough credit?

"Okay," Tig pulls a scrap of paper out the pocket of his cut and slides it over to Juice. "Run this tag number, get us an address. The bastard's probably looking for us tonight, he saw my cut, knows I got brothers, he's probably sittin' there at his screen door, chewing his tobacky and holding a shot gun right now, so we move tomorrow after dark, let this shithead think that we don't care enough to kick his ass." Tig meets all of our eyes and waits for us all to nod our heads, but we already are. I have to admit, I've never seen him like this, more than just making sense for once, but he's got this…fierce power of execution in his voice, the kind of thing that inspires men to believe that what he's telling them is possible. I'm watching him more closely than I ever have before, holding my cigarette so that my eyes are hidden through the veil of its smoke, Tig's stare is heavy and excited, but so collected, he's got a plan, it's not going to be pleasant, but it is going to be good. He looks at all of us at once, "We go sixty-six."

Sixty-six? Okay, yeah, Tig has some really awesomely bad plans for this guy we're going out to get. No cuts and no bikes when we all come down his driveway? Yeah, Tig really doesn't want any of what is going to happen traced back to us…or so I thought…but what he said next was a strange surprise to all of us.

"Juice, you get the trailer from your girl, we'll need it." Tig's not smiling or smirking or leering or anything…apparently he meant that.

"We need a horse trailer?" I hear myself asking, not able to control it; I can't really when something so…so…"Tig" enters into the otherwise rational and firm plans. "What the…okay, just how fat is this dude?"

Clay and Juice are both pissed about what happened to the girls, but they both laugh; it's pretty obvious they were thinking the same thing I was, but Tig curls his lip up at all of us, refusing to explain and just carrying on. "This shitfucker's got another long ass, silver cattle hauler at his place and we'll need that too, ditch it somewhere when we're done."

Juice is nodding, like Clay and I, he doesn't have any idea why we need these things, but Juice doesn't ask any questions, just picks up the piece of paper with the tag number on it. "I can get Lauren's trailer," he says rather commandingly to Tig and then gets to his feet. "I'm running this shit now. I want to see what this bastard's face looks like so I can start planning how to rearrange it!"

Tig and Clay both give Juice a strong, encouraging nod as he walks out of the chapel, but I don't…that kind of aggression on Juice just doesn't fit him…it's something he still has to grow into…I think I stopped threatening to "rearrange faces" when I was in second grade, but I don't think Juice has got a growth spurt like that in him. That's not what makes Juice, Juice…if he didn't pick up any "scary" from Tig when Tig sponsored him, then Juice just isn't ever going to have it…but Juice really must love that girl though! Lauren would probably be all kinds of proud to hear her man borrowing the words and attitude he was in order to protect her. Tig said Lauren wasn't hurt, but Juice was still on fire about what happened to her. Not that I can blame him, though. Joss isn't even mine…and I'm supposed to…to…send her to Tig one day…maybe…and even I'm one hundred percent out for blood!

"Alright, since no one else has the balls to ask, what do we need a fucking horse trailer for?" Clay is lighting up a cigar and asking the question that was on my mind not too long ago, but I'd already tried to ask that question, but Tig sneered at me and chose not answer, probably out of spite. I wasn't going to venture to ask a second time…it was more of a "brains over balls" kind of thing, for me at least. Hmm…"brains over balls"…shit, no, I definitely haven't given Tig enough credit when it comes to why I'm his choice for VP.

Tig is still so anger-drunk about Joss's life having been endangered that he starts to grind his teeth and shake a little whenever someone questions why we're doing what we're doing, and the way we're doing it. His fingers are wrapped around the edge of the redwood table top, squeezing like he's trying to rip out a chunk of the wood. "This cocksucker sells horses for slaughter," Tig was saying, and I still wasn't quite following, but I listened. "He left the auction with a shit-load of 'em. So, I'm stealing 'em!" Tig is adamant about that, and why wouldn't he be? It sounds completely insane! What the hell are we going to do with a "shit-load" of horses? Jesus, it's like Tig swings back and forth from being a Napoleon like strategist to the Emperor Caligula…he's stealing a "shit-load" of horses? What is he trying to do? Create the first ever SAMCRO mounted cavalry unit?

Even Clay is casting an odd look Tig's way, one eyebrow cocked. "Shit," Clay sort of laughs, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he does. "Never thought I'd see the day when SAMCRO could get hung for horse theivin'!"

I laugh a little, couldn't help it; I can't stop seeing Tig with one of the infamous black cowboy hats on, firing his six shooters in the air and scaring a herd of horses away from the ranch they belonged to…then stopping to tie some poor damsel to a train track…but admittedly, that was a different movie…poor damsel…damn it, I can't be thinking that way right now, or tomorrow night, I had to stand in for Joss, I had to make sure this whole thing was righted for her and that she was avenged. I could trust Tig to do that for her, and I'd be there to help him.

"You with me?" Tig's voice is much shorter and snappier than it usually is when he talks to Clay, but I know how he is about Joss; Tig would do anything for her, and he won't suffer fools of any kind in his quest.

"Hey," Clay takes another puff of his cigar and he's confidently calm, not even flinching at the tone of his SAA's voice just a moment ago, but then Clay always has gotten Tig better than anyone else…except Joss. "I consider that girl my own, Tig. You don't have to ask that. I want this shit bag as bad as you do, you know that."

And Tig does know that, it's evident in how he's looking down at the table top, ashamed of his outburst at the king. "Yeah," he offers to Clay apologetically and Clay nods; the air cleared between them just like that.

"Me too," I submit, because it feels like the appropriate time to say so, not only because it doesn't sound like I'm standing in my usual "Joss trench" after what Clay just said, but also because I sort of had made part of Tig's plan look ridiculous…but apologies around here never look like what they are. "We'll hit this asshole hard; horse trailers and all." Well, at least the first part of what I said made sense.

Tig's eyes flick up from the table top he'd taken to staring into after biting at Clay, and if not for how he stared at me a little longer than just a glance, I never would have suspected that he was saying, "thanks." But he was, and with everyone up to speed, this meeting was breaking up. We'd meet again tomorrow to go over the finality of everything, but for now, Tig was heading home, he wanted to be with Joss, and she no doubt wanted to be with her old man…that girl's amazing, she really is, but she'll always always always have that unnatural and needful fascination with Tig, who am I kidding?

I'm following Tig out of the chapel, wondering now as to how everything went down at that auction and hoping he'd tell me before we left for our hunt tomorrow night. It's foolish of me to keep wondering and trying to borrow worry, but I also can't stop. A pick-up truck and trailer loaded down with horses almost ran over Joss's head? How does that happen? And how is Joss not…I don't know…Tig said she was alright…but…shit, I know I'll regret this. "So, Joss really okay? How is she?"

Tig stops and pivots around at me with a heavy, hissing breath as he shakes his head at me. "Jesus Christ, Ope! I don't know how many more fucking times I can live with you asking me this shit!" He looks thoroughly irritated and also disappointed in me, and I try not to let that last one bother me…but it kind of does, and it never used to. I know I'm not supposed to be asking about Joss, my inquiries are well intentioned, but they're still wrong. But this is one habit I can't break, and Tig looks like he's about to break it for me; there's this new, weird look in his eyes, like he's just thought of something…and if it sprang from the depths of the marshy murk that is Tig's mind, it can't be good. But, I stepped right into it, and here I am. Tig stands tall, not as tall as I am, but he'll always have that "scary" towering over what I've got. "Gimme your damn phone!"

"What?" That is not at all what I expected him to say to me, not with the look that was in his eyes…not that I knew that look, but still, Tig's unknown's were usually not things that anyone wanted to suffer. But he wanted my phone? Why? Was it "thirsty" again? Was this how he was going to get back at me for asking about Joss? Throw my phone into a glass of beer again? No, that would have been stupid…it was up there with threatening to "rearrange a face." What the hell did Tig want with my phone?

"Gimme your phone, Ope!" Tig demands again, louder this time, like he's not going to put up with me asking anymore questions about anything, unless I hand over my phone. I've just pledged to go with him tomorrow night, in the dark, with knives and guns…and horse trailers…so what other choice do I really have but to just comply and take what's coming? I was the one who screwed up anyway…it had to catch up with me somehow.

I pull my phone from my cut and Tig's hand is waiting. I expect to watch him crush it or flip it open and snap it in half…but no. "'How's Joss?' 'How's Joss?'" he's sort of imitating my voice, but in a much more girlish tone that doesn't surprise me to hear, but I'm not really paying attention to that, I'm watching Tig…punching a number into the keypads of my phone. "Quit fucking asking me that, Ope!" He growls, without looking up, hitting "send" and I can hear that my phone is dialing, then ringing, and Tig throws it back to me, I scramble to catch it, wondering what the hell is going on, and then Tig tells me. "Ask her yourself!" He barks, and then storms off.


	74. What Comes Around

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 74

"No! You don't understand!" Joss growled, growled like Tig usually did, her hand never left Opie's thigh, covered in blood…so much blood…the leg of Ope's jeans was soaked and dripping red from the cuff, down onto his heavy, black boots, despite how hard Joss still pulled the improvised belt-tourniquet as tightly around Opie's leg as she could…his femoral artery was really giving it up. She didn't need the distraction of having to fend off doctors, nurses and other emergency room attendants who all thought they were actually going to remove her, telling her she "didn't understand," that they "couldn't help her friend" with her in the room. Yeah right…Joss was damn near crouching over Ope as he lay there on the gurney falling half into and half out of consciousness, Ope was hers…and she was keeping him! She leveled her eyes at the medical staff closing in on her, her stare like something a wild animal would cast towards a rival, interloping into her territory. "I was told to 'stay with him' and that's what I'm going to do!"

"Young lady," some doctor had began to say to her on a rather aggravated sigh, like he was actually going to attempt to reason with her, but his voice was drowned out by all the other words and stern voices that all came at her, a rush of activity around she and Ope…Ope, who just lay there on the gurney, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding…God damn it…he needed help, but Saint Thomas was quite a different jungle to try to navigate through without Tara's assistance. "I think we need security," some other voice muttered from the throng of medical professionals that surrounded her and Ope, but Joss only steeled herself, took a deep breath and let it all build, readying herself to face down security…she wasn't leaving Ope…she wasn't!

"What's going on?" An exotic looking, slender woman with beautiful, dark chestnut curls pulled back loosely behind her head strode up from out of nowhere, observing the battle in process, but she didn't join in with the "white coat team" like Joss had expected, even though this woman was obviously a doctor. No, she was just watching everything with a very calm, observing eye, her smooth, even, naturally bronze skin never blotched with the blush of panic or fear.

"Motorcycle gang thinks they run the hospital…again." Someone with a stethoscope around their neck said, but Joss was watching the new doctor too closely to tell who had said what.

The new doctor's wavy, rust colored curls bounced and danced against her almost golden skin as she nodded her head, seeming to figure things out a little better than how they'd been described to her by her co-workers. Joss watched her, enthralled with this new doctor. She wasn't like the others, she didn't even look like them; she was like some native dancer turned physician, an inner part of her still swaying and moving to some unheard tropical rhythm that set a different pace of life for her than the one everyone else marched along to. But that was good, because that rhythm tempered something so warm and guiding about her; she was blue water gently washing upon pearly sand, moving the world around her in barely perceptible shoves and pushes too gentle to be felt, but strong enough to produce revolution. Her green eyes took in both Joss and Ope like she saw some version of things that most people would never know to even look for. But still Joss wondered what this new, unusual doctor…a Doctor Napoli, as it said on her white coat, was going to do next and what her plan for forcing Joss out of the ER was…mystical, new agey reverence was one thing, but hospital policies were quite another. But Doctor Napoli remained calm, setting her green eyes on Joss and serenely asking her, "Is this your husband?"

Whoa…Joss hadn't expected that! "Yes!" The word came with vehement meaning, but no thought behind it, and Joss yanked on the tourniquet with one hand and thread the bloody fingers of her other into Opie's hand, so startled when his hand didn't eagerly close around hers the way it would have any other time…no Ope…don't be—no…Joss wouldn't even think it…but someone had to get to helping him, now! The fight in her was starting to waver and she was trying so hard not to look down at Ope, didn't want to see how dark his beard looked against how pale white his face was…he wasn't dea—no! Jesus…Joss still didn't know how any of this had happened, she only knew it wasn't supposed to have happened, and that Tig was counting on her to save Ope. It was about two in the morning when Joss heard a heavy, huge vehicle speeding and rumbling down their long, wooded driveway, and she'd run out onto the front porch. In the glare of headlights she could see Tig at the wheel, and she could tell by the look on Tig's face as he'd driven that familiar, old, dilapidated, diesel pick-up truck, complete with long, silver stock trailer, full up with horses, that something had gone wrong…very wrong.

"That settles it then," Doctor Napoli's soothing, matter of fact tone brought Joss back, but gave her hope amongst all the fear and gore. The doctor's green eyes scanned Ope's lifeless form then she looked up at all those opposed to Joss's presence, clearly anxious to get to work, but turning and shrugging at all the other experts present. "She's the wife, next of kin; she gets to stay."

Chapter 74; Part 2

I'm Joss's husband. She said so. I don't know where I am, but I know I heard her say "yes" when someone asked, and I wanted to grab her and…and…I don't know what I would have done, kiss her for giving me that moment of ecstasy or slap her for teasing me with something that I long for. But I couldn't do either, I can't even move. I'm not even sure I'm breathing anymore…but my heart's beating…sort of…it's really weak though, and very slow, sometimes it even feels like it's quivering in my chest, and that scares the shit out of me, but I can't even call out for help…I'm just lying here, trying to figure out where the hell I am…and why it's so cold and dark.

I know what happened though, and I can't believe it turned into…whatever this is. Tig is…shit, "crazy" isn't saying enough. I've watched him bite off ears in fights, I've heard him talk about dead girls in ways that will haunt me forever…but tonight I watched him chase down a round, short, fat ass horsemeat trader who was no match for Tig's long, six foot two inch stride. But Tig didn't just catch the guy and hold him down…oh no…Tig pulled his knife, slashing at the guy as he chased him, stabbing the fat man in the back with each lunging step that Tig took, just kept plunging that knife into the meat trader's spine again and again as they both ran until the fat piece of shit must have had his spinal cord severed and fell to the ground on his big belly, trying to pull himself away from Tig with his arms and hands, but he was way too fat to crawl like that without his legs pushing him along…and that's when Tig finally stopped chasing him.

Tig wasn't real clear about how he was going to do what he was going to do to this guy that had tried to run over Joss, or get the horse she'd been holding to trample her, but this gory, back-stabbing chase didn't seem to be an improvisation. Whatever, as I watched Tig standing over the offender, knife still in hand, blood all over everything, I couldn't have been more for whatever Tig was about to do next. Joss…I'm her husband…I heard her say so…and there isn't anything that I wouldn't do, or try to stop from happening to anyone who so much as tried to hurt her…she said so…but I'm not her husband…but still…it doesn't matter. I couldn't see that well in the dark, but I was stoked when I could hear blood gurgling out of the fat man's mouth as he begged Tig to let him go, kept saying he was "sorry," kept promising that he'd "never go back to Clements auction again," and that "that girl can buy all the horses she wants to there." Tig's taking a moment to catch his breath, and I'm not sure just why he might need my help, but I'm hoping he does, I want in on this somehow, and I walk up the slight hill that Tig's got this guy pinned down on, and that's when I hear Tig growling something about "this is what you did to all those horses" and before I know it, Tig grabs the guy by the hair and lifts him half way off the ground by it, pulling his fat head back almost to Tig's shoulder and then the knife blade glinted in the moonlight, and slashed across the fat rolls of the fat man's neck. It was like a red Niagara Falls, the fat man bled like a proverbially stuck pig, which was fitting being that he sold horses for slaughter, and Tig let go of his hair and dropped him, the fat man's face and head 'thunking' against the ground. It was over…or so I thought.

"You good?" I come closer and ask, but Tig wasn't ready to for anyone to talk to him yet, and I knew that, but I was kinda pissed that he never asked for my help, or even so much as gave thought to how I'd wanted to have a hand in putting down the son of bitch that had messed with Joss. I'd had my hopes up that he might let me in on it, at least a little, because Tig had dialed Joss for me on my phone and pretty much ordered me to talk to her…he seemed to be understanding how I needed some kind of contact with her, and that he could trust me not to…well, I don't know really, Tig's mind is a mass of darkness that I'll never have a bright enough torch to make it from one side to the other in. Joss…she's more important to me than I know she should be, but Tig seemed to understand that I had to hear her voice, I had to hear her say she was "okay," I had to listen to her complain about how when she fell backwards off of the trailer ramp, the spur on her boot poked through the seat of her favorite riding breeches and that she was really put off that there was now a dime size hole right in the ass of them. I felt really badly for her when she talked about how one of the horses associated her with the attack and that he was afraid and angry every time he saw her…I felt really bad…really bad. I wanted to put my hands on that fat meat trader…I wanted to…shit, Tig had to know, and I thought maybe he'd understand…but maybe this was part of making me understand? Tig would take care of Joss. I can talk to her, he trusts me with her, likely only to a certain extent, but it will always be Tig who takes care of her. Okay, yeah…I should accept that…but come on, I'm his VP…didn't that alone win me any privileges like the ones I'd hoped for with the dispatching of this fat turd? Guess not.

Tig straightened up over the man he'd killed, groaning and letting the bones in his back pop and crunch back into place, then sighed like he'd just finished a long day of satisfying work and was heading in for a beer. He looked at me as he shook blood off his knife…blood was everywhere, I had to step around where it trickled down the hill. "Ain't even half finished." Tig said; his breathing was returning to normal but all the crazy adrenaline was still spiking. "Juice and Clay are moving trucks and trailers into place, we gotta get those horse herded up and into the trailers, and I've already seen how that don't go as smoothly as you'd think it does."

I nodded, looked like I'd be relegated to "cowboy" in just a few minutes…herding horses…what the hell do I know about horses? I can get behind that because I know what horses mean to Joss…but…damn it…I wanted to at least throw a punch at that fat, dead man. And then Tig gives me a look like he's accessing me. "Hey, you think you can drag this shit-fucker into the barn and get him onto a tarp?"

"Yeah," I answer confidently, "he's maybe like, what? About two-sixty, two-seventy?" I look down at the fat meat trader and estimate…yeah, I can move that…so could Tig likely, but he must have other things to get to…like herding horses? Good, let him do that, he sounds like he's got more experience there than I do anyway. "You want him rolled up and packed for the dumping grounds?" I ask him, feeling a little bit fulfilled to be given the responsibility of making this asshole go away forever.

But Tig shakes his head. "Na," and I can tell by his tone that there's something else he's had planned for this bastard all along…and I could be in on it, if I wanted to be…but…hmm…did I? "Just get him on the tarp. As soon as the horses are trailer-ed, I'm getting to work in that barn on him," and he pointed down at the fat man. "Brought a couple saws and hunting knives…this cocksucker made a living dealing horses to killed, sold and eaten in Europe and Japan…" Tig pauses, but only because he's taking the time to smile…and it's an awful smile…a real "Tig" smile. "So, I'm butchering him out, packing up the meat and sneaking it into the export from the closest Mexican slaughterhouse…let all those motherfuckers throwing cash towards keeping this whole horse killing thing in business gnaw on him for awhile."

Jesus…so that's Tig's ultimate revenge? Indirect cannibalism? "Christ," I hear myself sighing, but I also notice that I'm not trying to stop him…not at all. No one hurts Joss…no one…and I don't care what becomes of anyone who even tries to. "You really need help with that?" I ask, because not stopping him is one thing…actually doing it…

"Just get him into the barn, Ope," Tig says and wipes his bloody hands on his gray hoodie, then he claps me on the shoulder and nods that everything's cool. "And stay you; that's all I need."

Hearing Tig say that felt good in ways that I'll probably never be settled with, but there's no sense if fighting him about it. I never imagined things could be so strange and twisted between two people, but they certainly can be…they are between Tig and Joss…and they are between me and Tig too. The guy believes in me, he calls me "brother," and I have no doubt that he'd take someone apart for me too…but he also killed my wife…and that'll always be there…even if I do, somehow, someway, start to like the guy.

I started to feel very heavy…like really heavy…and that didn't go away as I got to my work, doing what Tig had asked me to do and I grabbed the fat, dead man by the fat ankles and started to heave his already bloated looking body down to the barn. Joss would be happy when she found out that this guy wouldn't be buying and selling and ultimately killing anymore horses ever again; she'd be proud of Tig…yeah, she'd be proud of me too…she felt something for me, she said so. I could hear Clay yelling instructions to Juice and Tig about how to get horses to move where they wanted them too, but I didn't really listen, it didn't affect what I had in front of me…saws and hunting knives…it would be nice to have some sort of…meat hook…too…I'd see what I could find in the barn, get Tig set up, let him do what only he could do. I was good with this…and my part in it.

I hauled that fat piece of shit all the way down to the barn, but the two massive doors were shut and I had to let go of the fat, dead man to grab the door handles and slide them open along the tracks that held them. They didn't push easily, the aluminum was rusted and weak, this dead fucker didn't take care of much whether it was horses or outbuildings. The door I pushed felt like maybe it was caught by something, there was tension pushing back on the door as I tried to slide it, and I was so damn eager to get this son of a bitch sent off to where he deserved to go, that I grunted out one big lunging push, the door giving in and finally sliding open, but something snapped against my leg where it opened…a piece of wire…and I'd tripped it…and next there was a 'bang'…the fat meat trader had been expecting us after all…he'd booby-trapped his barn…

Author's Note: Still wanting to say "Thank You" to all of you who review! This part of the story has no outline, I'm kind of making it up as I go along, and all the reviews I get are so crucial right now, because you guys are guiding me and keeping me on course! So thank you! It's amazing what I can accomplish with the words of so many great people to help me along the way!

Many thanks to VERDA NAPOLI for agreeing to join the hilarity and horrors of my story! Thank you for jumping up to fill a void that I was wondering what to do with since I cut Tara loose to go spy in Texas!:-) You really came along at just the right time! Thank you for your support, readership and your faithful reviews!


	75. Transplant List

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 75

Ope didn't look right without his black skull cap. Every time Joss pictured him in her mind, he was wearing it, and without it, his thick, brown hair just seemed to take over everything. He looked a little bit like Jesus without the hat…Jesus the Savior, not Jesus the raccoon…and it was strange…and kind of scary too being that Joss was hoping her guts out that Ope would remain here with the living and not be shaking hands with the real Jesus. That did it…she was putting the black, wool, biker skull cap back on Ope…he needed it, she imagined it was some kind of an anchor to keep him grounded here. Saint Thomas still thought she was Opie's wife, so they'd given her all his effects before they'd taken him into surgery and Joss set about digging through the large, clear plastic bag that contained all of Opie's clothes, hoping that there wasn't too much blood on his hat, but finding that his still damp, red soaked jeans had been sealed tightly into their own bag and then been placed inside with his other possessions. Good, not everything was ruined then, and Joss really should take those jeans into the bathroom, fill the sink with cold water and let them soak for awhile…yeah, maybe they had some little packets or bottles of stain remover in the gift shop? She could have Ope's jeans all clean and…and…damn it, there was a big hole blown into them by the shot gun that had torn Ope's femoral artery to shreds…damn it…maybe they had one of those pocket sewing kits in the gift shop too?

What? Why was she so worried about his damn pants? Ope was laying there, out of it, his color was better, but he was still unconscious, waiting to reveal to Joss and all of his doctors just how much blood he'd lost and what it had done to his brain. They'd put five units into Ope during the surgery and Joss knew that was a lot, the human body contained twelve units…five was a lot. A lot of time had passed from the moment he'd been shot and the time that Joss had gotten him to the hospital…the arterial damage was repaired, antibiotics were in, Ope's blood pressure had stabilized…but what if she hadn't gotten him here in time? Tig needed Ope…Tig had put her in charge of getting Ope help…oh God, what if Joss had failed them both? Ope…she needed him too…she loved Ope, but in a way that Joss couldn't explain.

"Hey, don't move for a minute, okay?" Joss practically whispered as she stood with the skull cap stretched out around her fingers, leaning slightly over Opie as she began to set it gently down over his multidirectional hair, wondering if maybe being so quiet and careful was really the right thing. She wanted him to wake up; maybe she should have been hollering at him to hold still and then pull that hat onto his head so hard that she covered his entire face with it? No…that was just some panicked suggestion trying to take control…and Joss ignored it, taking a deep breath and sliding the skull cap between Ope's head and the pillow it rested on, smiling a bit as the knit slowly conformed around his temples and brow. He looked more like Ope now, like her Ope, and she gingerly folded the bottom edge of the hat up against itself, the way Opie usually wore it.

"There," she sighed and then had a seat next to his bed again. "I'm not really sure how to act on this side of the bed…I hate it to admit it, but I tend to be the one flat on my back usually…so bear with me while I get this stuff figured out, okay Ope?"

Ope said nothing in reply; just lay there with his hat now on, eyes closed, breathing even but shallow. Oh come on…open those eyes and offer her a band-aid…come on, Ope! Jesus…Joss had plotted to kill him once, and now here she was, holding his hand with both of hers, her features strained with worry that Opie might really be dea—no, that wasn't going to happen. Maybe it was wrong, but that's how Tig had taught her to deal with this kind of stuff, don't think about it; don't give it power over you. But she wanted to be able to do something…washing and sewing Ope's jeans, stretching his hat around his head…that made Joss feel better, but it didn't make Ope get any better any faster. Damn it…what would Gemma be doing right now?

Without having any real purpose, Joss was on her feet again. She walked to the window on the left of Opie's bed, like maybe there was an answer for what to do outside of it. It was just after five in the morning, but the autumn sun was still asleep. Good, had daylight been breaking, and Opie was still laying there unresponsive, Joss wasn't sure she could take it. She was tired too, she could feel it now; she'd been waiting up for Tig to come home; he wasn't on a run and Joss couldn't sleep when she knew he was out riding sixty-six and "handling shit" close to home, anyway. And now she was waiting up for Opie…damn, she was beginning to feel like she had two men in her life…she did whatever Tig told her to do and she loved him beyond her own capacity to love anything, but Ope…if she didn't care about him, she'd be slumped over asleep right now in that chair by his bed, staying with him as Tig had asked, but not so caught up in his recovery that it kept her from giving in to the urge to just close her eyes and let the world go. She loved Ope…she still didn't know exactly what that was or what it meant…but what if she really did "love" hi—No! It didn't feel like that…at least, not until now, in little broken off pieces of that flew wildly inside of her overwhelming concern for Ope and gouged her in the most improper of places. It was just stress…and worry. Part of Joss knew that, still, part of her didn't. One thing was for sure though; she couldn't have two men in this life. Ope wasn't her husband, he'd never be that…but he was something…something that had her heart blasting away in her chest and eyes on the brink of letting go with a flood of tears. Come on, Ope…come on!

"I wish Tig was here," Joss said as she stared out into the waning night. She hadn't even heard from him for hours, she knew he was busy, but she missed her man more than ever, wanted him to pull her to him in that rough way he always did and just hold her, squeezing her with a power that would have scared the hell out of any other girl. Tig…whatever she did feel for Ope, it paled in comparison to everything inside of her that was Tig. But Joss looked over her shoulder at Ope…why wouldn't he wake up? "Maybe you don't want him here, I can understand that. But, I'm really starting to crumble, Ope. I need someone with me right now," she found herself turned away from the window and approaching Ope again, and now she was starting to feel a little abandoned by him, as crazy and selfish as it was to feel that way. He never used to leave her alone…so why was he now? "I really need someone to hold my hand through this, Opie." Again Joss took a seat in the chair next to Opie's bed and she leaned forward, both of her hands wrapping around Opie's…and again, he didn't respond to her touch, no long, strong, rough fingers curling around hers with an inappropriate possessiveness. Joss hiccupped a tear swallowing sigh. "If you're not going to do it, then I want Tig!"

The next thing she knew the door to Opie's room creaked and Joss stirred, her eyes flicking open but she couldn't see very well…somewhere along the lines, she'd laid her head down upon the pile of her hands and Ope's and her body had given up its fight to stay awake. Damn it…but maybe while she'd been asleep, Opie had…but one glance up towards his face showed him to be as still and unconscious as ever…no…her heart sank, sank so far down that she'd forgotten all about the noise the door made and what that meant, until a new voice finally jolted her out of her gloom.

"What the hell happened?" Joss knew that voice even though she wasn't as familiar with it as she was the others of Tig's brothers…in fact, she'd never even spoken with Piney before, but now here he was, looking worriedly at his son and demanding answers from her…Tig's queen.

Piney looked like he'd done more drinking than sleeping that night, but he wasn't impaired…big surprise, there weren't many one-percenters in the world who didn't have a high tolerance for…a lot of things. But Piney usually was grumpy and now that normal grumpiness was times ten, plus being a little scared, a lot worried and just plain angry. As soon as he'd seen Joss sitting there beside Ope's bed, she knew Piney immediately blamed Tig for whatever happened. There were a lot things bumping into one another inside of Joss, her fear and her worry and her sadness at Ope's continued unconsciousness was being pushed aside to make room for the defensiveness she felt for her man, the want to set Piney straight and tell him that any such opinions of her king would never be tolerated…but Joss stood strong, now was no time to start throwing hateful words, stares and assumptions. Besides, it was Piney…a founding member…part of her felt like she should call him "Mister."

"I'm not sure about what happened myself; I haven't been given that part of the story." Joss answered, and she sat up straight, very straight, trying to look like she'd never dozed off. She probably should have let go of Opie's hand, but she couldn't let go of Ope…she just couldn't…the hat hadn't worked to snap him out of it, so maybe holding his hand would? "All I know is that I rushed Ope to the hospital with a gunshot wound to the thigh. They successfully repaired his femoral artery, now we're just waiting…for him to wake up."

Piney nodded, but his expression was mean and cantankerous. "I got a message that his wife brought him in," and the old man paused, the corner of one lip lifting up into a sneer that bit straight through Joss and made her want to look away. "You know what that's like? Hearing your dead daughter-in-law took your son to the ER?"

Cold…it just came from all around, swirled over her and invaded her, chilling the deepest parts of her. Yeah, Piney blamed Tig…but further than that, he hated him…and Joss too, because she was, after all, an extension of Tig. Unless Ope had said something to his dad about what he'd personally told Joss about Donna, then Piney didn't know that Joss knew what Tig had done…Piney was just trying to make her feel guilty for using the word "wife," maybe even testing her a little to see what she knew and being the grouchy, bitter old coot he'd become over the years. Okay, that was Piney's right, whether he knew how far Joss's knowledge extended or not. But really, it didn't matter…Joss had already studied for this scenario. Don't apologize! Queens never apologize! "If I hadn't lied about being Opie's wife, then they wouldn't have let me be with him, and the last thing I wanted was him lost in the inner workings of Saint Thomas, without Tara as a safety net. I doubt that's what you would have wanted either, so I did what I had to do."

Piney's mouth closed tightly but his eyes narrowed, graying red hair a mess all over his head…Joss wanted to throw out a haughty "we got here around two am, where the hell have you been" but she didn't…diplomacy was needed here, and though she wasn't quite sure how to properly effect that, she knew what not to do. Piney's brow creased and the oxygen tank hissed shortly within the olive drab ammunition bag he always carried it slung over his shoulder in, and Piney looked suddenly thoughtful, but did his best to seem unimpressed. He looked back at Joss, his eyes taking in every detail as if he were judging them all. "Seventeen, huh?" He grunted at her, like he was disgusted by her age…but Joss knew better.

"Eighteen," she corrected boldly, but politely, and looked back at Ope, giving his forearm a stroke and sighed. "Your dad's here," she almost whispered to him, but didn't say anything more, not trusting that Piney wouldn't turn any of her words into some kind of fuel for rumors…he likely knew about his son's fascination with her, and if it was even suspected that a brother was messing with another brother's old lady, word got around faster than anyone could deny it.

Now Joss hoped even more that Ope would wake up, because she was on her own with Piney…and she really didn't know how to handle him. He wasn't Clay, not by a long shot…Piney was…disgruntled…likely still fuming and let down by Jax's departure, and he did, very much, hate Tig…and well, as much as Joss loved her man, she did understand why. Shit…come on Ope…enough was enough…open those eyes!

And then the door creaked open again, stealing both Joss's and Piney's attention from Ope and they looked up to see Doctor Napoli entering the room with a calming smile. She'd been here since Joss and Opie had arrived, but she didn't look the least bit tired, even her make-up looked fresh…and that's when Joss noticed that the doctor didn't wear any, that coffee and cream complexion standing on its own against her hunter green eyes and dark, red curls…and she wasn't as tall as Joss had previously thought, it was just her long, graceful limbs that made it appear she was taller; yeah she was a dancer, she had to be. Doctor Napoli smiled at Joss, then at Piney, who only looked up at her and grunted, unimpressed still.

"Hello, I'm doctor Verda Napoli. We haven't met," she said and extended her hand and elegant fingers to Piney, and Joss fully expected Piney to grunt once more and ignore her, but to her surprise, Piney starred up at Doctor Napoli blindly and put his hand in hers like he was powerless to resist. Wow! But the beautiful doctor did have some kind power to her; it wasn't easy to not be drawn to her. "And who are you?" She smiled and warmly asked of Piney, who sat there still shaking her hand, for an overly long period of time, and so caught up in looking at her that he'd forgotten to introduce himself.

"Oh," Piney seemed caught off guard, and Joss was feeling just a tiny bit jealous that this woman had come from out of nowhere and started to turn Piney inside out…Joss had held her own against his veiled accusations, but she'd had to struggle up to that point and then continued to struggle even after. But this doctor…no, she already had Piney wrapped around her beautiful finger. "I'm his dad," Piney said, almost like he was downplaying it and jerked his head over towards Ope in a way that then made Joss want to slap a little more reverence out of Piney for his own son. Okay, she was beginning to feel overloaded…too much "mine, mine, mine" versus the awkwardness of sitting with the father-in-law of a woman her man had inadvertently killed…and she was holding the hand of the widower himself, whom Joss had very uncertain feelings for, while the widower was hopelessly in love with her…fuck, what a soap opera her life had turned into! This had to end.

"Nice to have you here," Doctor Napoli smiled down to Piney but then moved away towards Ope's bed with flowing and poised strides. "I'm just here to check on him," she said peacefully and set her stethoscope into her lovely ears, her gold coin earrings jangling as she did and they caught Joss's attention. There were sea turtles on the coins that hung from the doctor's golden-bronze earlobes and the word "tartaruga" stamped below each image of the animal. Tartaruga…tartaruga…that meant "turtle" in Portuguese…but why a sea turtle? Neither Portugal or Brazil were known for sea turtles…but…hmm…the doctor didn't really look that Latin, there was some other, strongly, beautiful influence in her make up, something that looked almost African…oh! Doctor Verda Napoli…Verda…Joss smiled a bit, proud of herself at having figured out this mystery. The doctor must have had some Cape Verdean heritage! That was actually kind of perfect, because here she was caught up in this wild, backwards world of MC's, and she sprang from a beautiful little, tropical island caught forever between its native African people and it's European Portuguese settlers…and her last name was undeniably Italian…hmm…this new doctor was trapped between worlds, in more ways than one.

"He's been out too long, hasn't he?" Fear gripped Joss suddenly as Doctor Napoli pressed her stethoscope over Opie's chest and then part of Joss prepared to be peppered with jealousy if Ope's eyes just magically sprang open at the doctor's touch, but they didn't, and she returned to her now normal state of strife.

But the doctor very calmly shook her head and smiled again, taking the stethoscope from Ope's chest and removing it from her ears, shaking her head, all the deep, chestnut curls bouncing again as she did. "Not necessarily," she said almost cheerfully. "Though I can understand why you're nervous. You must love him very much." She smiled, but this time she didn't make eye contact with Joss…and that was strange…something was up with that.

"Yeah," Joss answered, but she was more focused on watching how the doctor gently pressed her lady-like, tapered fingers to Ope's wrist, a few inches below his thumb to check his pulse than she was on making her answer sound like that of a doting wife…this doctor wasn't just taking a pulse…she was, but she wasn't…doing it right…no, she was…but she was…like…just looking for some way to have some gentle, warm contact with Opie…really? Whether Doctor Napoli realized it or not, she was now the club's new doctor, because Joss would remember her name! But…maybe…she'd become even more than that?

Author's Note: I'm really sorry for the latest ffnet bug with the chapter alerts going out to those of you subscribe to this story! I'm doing what I can to keep you all alerted as to when a new chapter gets posted, so if you'd like me to send you a PM when I do post, please send me a PM and let me know. I have no idea how long this story alert email issue will last at ffnet, but I'll do what I can to get around it. I hope the problem with the alerts is why there weren't too many reviews for the chapter before this one, and it's not that I'm now doing something you all don't like. But either way, let me know! You've got so much control of this story right now, because I've got no more outline!lol Let me hear your ideas!:-) Thanks for your readership and the reviews, they really are better than getting paid!:-) Thanks always! - Grace


	76. Flattering Fit

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 76

Potatoes were so much easier to work with than horseradish was. For one thing they didn't have that pungent smell like horseradish did, and that smell would immediately tip off any forensic investigator that someone was trying to hide the presence of blood. But potatoes? They didn't have one of those lingering kind of smells, and they didn't make eyes water and nasal passages burn and run as they were smashed up, shaken up in a spray bottle full of water and then spritzed around anywhere blood had been that Tig didn't ever want detected. Potatoes were great, easily accessible, cheap, and they threw off all the blood presence indicator tests that cops would use from Luminol to Fluorescein, TMB, LMG and the revered Kastle-Meyer Color Test. Not that Tig was worried about anyone thinking to come looking for that fat piece of shit…who was on his way to Europe and points further east, via Mexico. It was pretty clear that no one was going to miss him. He lived alone, the only tire tracks into and out of his place had been that of the old, dilapidated pick-up truck and the long silver trailer it hauled. And before him, Clay, Juice and Ope had come out here, Tig had Juice type up a bill of sale for the horses Tig had stolen and the fat cocksucker's last official act was signing it. There was no reason not to suspect the fat fuck had just sold his inventory then packed up and left his piece of shit mobile home and life behind. Things were good…Tig was almost satisfied...almost.

Two things pulled at him, one being Ope, and the other made Tig hunger for Joss, the way she'd know what he'd done without asking, without ever asking…Tig could count on one hand the number of times he'd broke down, trimmed out, dismembered and destroyed a body. He'd become good at it, knew to slit the throat of whomever was to be sectioned out, let all the blood drain while the heart was still beating, it made it so much easier to see what he was doing when the slicing knives were in his hand. He wasn't often called upon to remove someone in this fashion, but he was always the one who could get through the process and come out of it feeling…hmm…he wasn't exactly sure what this feeling was, it wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't triumph, it wasn't even pride…it was almost like some kind of weird high, but then again, it wasn't like that exactly…but whatever it was, it demanded pussy…lots of pussy, tie three or four bitches down to the bed and have it both holes kind of fucking; he'd be hard and going at it for hours. But Joss was oddly satisfying by herself on these occasions; she had been the last time Tig had…after her father cooked over a grill-less fire. She would be again, Tig wanted her! As soon as he'd washed and packed up his cleaver, folding bone saw, scimitar knife and skinning blade Tig had been envisioning Joss in their bed, lying asleep and unsuspecting on her side, the soft sheets gently draped over the sumptuous hourglass of her form. He'd rip them off, push her to her back and be on her and in her before she even knew who he was…but she would know, and she'd wouldn't tell him "no," she wouldn't say anything at all. But Joss wasn't at home, asleep in their bed…Opie…

It all seemed like it had happened so long ago now, the sun was up and Tig was finally on his way to the hospital; he'd had so much to do, and he couldn't leave it all half finished despite how much he wanted to watch over Ope at Saint Thomas. And so he'd done the next best thing he could; he'd sent Joss. That damn girl had more "mom" in her than she knew still, she'd make sure Ope was safe and got good care. Tig knew he could trust her, and in leaving Ope with her, Tig had found a new way in which he was glad he could; he had to drop off all the horses and then get back to the place he'd stolen them from and clean everything up. He'd burned the clothes and rubberized black butcher's apron he'd worn, washed his hands from fingers to elbows with bleach, gasoline and finally soap and water…his skin burned like it usually did after so many scrubbings with such harsh solutions, but Tig was satisfied that both him and the fat cocksucker's farm were clean. But Ope…shit…just about every time it felt like Opie was within grasp, he slipped away again one way or another.

Tig had called Joss to let her know he was on his way and ask how Ope was. The sound of her voice pricked through his body and he could nearly feel his big cock buried in her and spasming within the sweet, tight heat of her body…but still he noticed that Joss hadn't sounded like herself. Nothing was wrong though, not really, Tig hadn't gotten that from their conversation, but the girl sounded very tired, kind of irked and still a little worried, though she'd said that Opie was starting to wake up finally, but that no one could understand what he was saying. Tig had chuckled a little, wished someone was there to be recording Ope's senseless mumblings…Ope always expressed himself pretty well when he did, it would have been great to hit play on something like that if Ope ever got too expressive! Tig's worry over Ope was subsiding and his thoughts were turning more towards Joss; she'd sounded like she'd been through it, even telling him, "please get here fast, I need you." If that girl needed him, then there was nothing about to stop Tig from getting to her!

He was doing eighty easily, flying through Charming on his bike, which did eighty so smoothly…not many wanted or could handle an engine like Tig sat on top of, it was big, it was loud; drag bars pulling at his hands in a way that would have seen his bike get away from anyone else who rode it before they knew what happened. But Tig was good, leaning into the power of the big, modified, ninety-six inch, V-twin engine and charging ahead towards Ope, and Joss. He was relieved that Ope seemed to be doing good, Joss had done him right just as Tig had known she would, and he had so many things to tell her now, too…after he fucked her…hard. She'd be happy about all that he'd done…wouldn't she? He hadn't exactly told her what he was going to do with the horses, or that he was stealing them…he hadn't told her anything at all…which was probably why she'd sounded so tired and confused on the phone…yeah, she had been through it…dealing with Ope, worrying about her old man…shit, Tig should have called her to let her know that things were okay, that there'd just been that little mishap with Ope…but he couldn't exactly hold his phone to his ear and saw through a spine then cut from ribs to belly and section out pieces of "loin" and "steaks." Damn…maybe he coulda been a butcher for real somewhere? Na, Joss was vegetarian, she'd so totally freak if her old man cut up animals for a living…

Joss…fuck…yeah, Tig should have called her. But, she'd be okay as soon as he showed up and let her throw her arms around him and snuggle in like she liked to do, and Tig wouldn't balk at having her body that close to his either…but she was going to lose some clothes first! Yeah, Joss would be okay after he fucked her, let her know that her old man was good, and then he'd tell her she'd done a good job, her first "queen bee" type assignment and she'd passed with flying colors! And she'd really be okay when he told her about Juice…Tig had thought that maybe Juice having a girl that was into horses might have somehow given Juice an idea or two about how to act around horses…but no.

Clay had been standing in the upper corner of the hilly, rocky field that the fat fuck had kept all his poorly provided for horses in and Clay had been laughing harder than Tig had ever heard the old son of bitch laugh. Tig was about to ask what was so damn funny, but it was soon clear what Clay was so amused with. There was Juice, arms swooping up and down at his sides wildly as he ran after about thirty horses, yelling some repetitive word or sound at them that Tig couldn't make out, but it and Juice's antics scattered the herd and he'd have to run his ass off trying to regroup them and push them up the big hill towards the open trailer. It looked like it had been going on for some time, and Clay was laughing far too hard to be of any help. This sure as shit wasn't getting anything done! What the fuck was going on?

"You ever get the chance to watch Joss work with horses?" Clay stopped laughing long enough to turn to Tig and ask.

"Yeah," Tig answered, although that was another thing he could count on one hand the number of times he'd actually done so…huh…Joss was pretty excited about this riding school shit…Tig would have to try to be around that damn girl and what she was doing with horses a little more…not a lot, but just enough so that she'd get that he was proud of what she was doing for the club with it all, because the community of Charming was going to be favorably impressed with a SAMCRO sponsored and funded horse-riding place…and horse sanctuary. What? Wait! Shit, when the hell did he get to be supportive? Holy fuck! God damn it…that wasn't even the worst part…the worst part was that it wasn't even worth fighting that he was being supportive…Tig was sprung…Joss in his house, ring on his finger and noose around his neck…that damn girl…he'd even said, out loud, that he lov—no, he never did that…Tig had decided awhile ago that the whole scene that went down in the hospital after their first wedding never really happened…it was just a figment of his imagination and weed laced with some bad PCP.

Clay continued, unaware of how horrified Tig was at having become this husband-thing, Clay making some weird little clicking sound with his tongue on the roof of his mouth, sucking back on it to produce a sound that Tig hoped he'd never have to spell…kinda like a 'shnick shnick shnick' sound that Tig did recognize from having watched not just Joss, but Hob-bitch too when they were around horses and trying to communicate with them to move…fuck, horse people apparently spoke in clicks and chirps like that African tribe! "You know that sound?" Clay was asking now, beginning to laugh again, and Tig nodded, again looking off at Juice who had just gathered together the herd only to have them all splinter off again and Juice was now standing there, winded, bent over at the waist, hands on his knees and sighing "Oh man," but then took off running and flailing his arms again, still spewing whatever the word was he kept throwing out at the horses. Clay laughed again. "There ain't no name for that noise, so I tried to describe it to our boy there as 'clucking' to them," Clay was laughing harder now, and then Tig could hear Juice as clear as day, running up behind two horses and shouting "Cluck! Cluck!" at them, the horses again running off from him and Juice taking off after them, his arms swooping up and down once more, and again Clay laughed. "I forget how literal he is," Clay sighed, but was laughing again soon, "but once he started doing that…and it was wrong of me," admitted Clay, "I told him to flap his arms too!"

And then Tig was also laughing, leaning against an old fence post with Clay and watching Juice, like a big chicken, trying to herd up thirty horses who thought he was out of his mind and kept running from the half-human, half-poultry mad man. It was just the distraction needed at the time, banishing the thoughts of how deep in he was with Joss now, and how easily it had all fallen over him…and how very little effort he was putting into disrupting it or stopping it lately…God fucking damn it…he loved Joss, he was the next king, he was happy, things were good…and then there'd been the sound of a gunshot…

Chapter 76; Part 2

Opie's eyes had found Joss first when they'd opened and the way he looked at her she could tell he had no idea, or care, that Piney was also in the room. The hand that she'd loosely wrapped around hers tightened with a sudden zeal and he'd even begun to raise his head up like he wanted to see her better and make sure she was really there. She'd smiled, so happy and relieved that he was finally awake…but why did he have to notice her first…notice her like that…to smile faintly like he knew she'd be there, waiting for him, like he knew she'd never leave him. It was anesthesia still wearing off…that's all…she knew it was, but she wouldn't have announced "I'll let the doctor know you're awake" and fled the room so quickly had it been anyone but Ope coming to in that bed, holding her hand.

Ope could only have two visitors at a time…she'd left him with Piney…let someone else take the now vacated visitor slot that had been Joss's…she needed to get out of that room. There was an alcove around the corner from Ope's room and the nurse's station, two small, green couches with a vending machine against the far wall between them and Joss stood looking into its glass case at rows of candy bars and gum and potato chips, surprised that Saint Thomas Hospital didn't offer something healthier…but then maybe this vending machine was meant to cater to those in need of comfort foods like chocolate and salty, fatty things? This was the recovery floor, after all. Still, would one of those machines with the revolving, refrigerated set of shelves that sometimes had apples and little packages of carrot sticks and low fat ranch dip be so impossible to get up here? Like it mattered…Joss didn't have any money, the money was all Tig's, and unless he handed it to her, she had zero dollars and zero cents. But that was okay, she wasn't hungry…she just needed something else to get into her head and worry about…and the poor selection of nutrition in the vending machine was good enough…no one hundred calorie packs of whole wheat snack crackers…

"Mrs. Winston," The name was being said behind her and Joss took no notice, picturing some octogenarian being wheeled back to her room after some kind of escape to be Mrs. Winston, because Joss was the only one standing here in the alcove. "Mrs. Winston," the name was repeated, only now a hand gently wrapped around her upper arm from the back, the touch conveying so much warm concern, but Joss still flinched and turned to see who was touching her, and calling her "Mrs. Winston," and there was Doctor Napoli…oh…oh yeah…"Mrs. Winston." Doctor Napoli's dark, reddish eyebrows arched downwards over her hunter green eyes as she looked at Joss, "Are you alright?" she asked in a way that only a doctor could…and Joss missed Tara…and Tig.

"Yeah," Joss answered, but too quickly and loudly, furthering the awkwardness of her answer by the way she shook head like she wanted it to fall off of her neck. "It's just been…a long night."

Doctor Napoli smiled like she understood…like she understood more than Joss had meant for her too, but she smiled with her perfect, white teeth and never acted like she was disturbed or curious about anything. "Your husband's more alert now," she informed Joss with a smile, the word "husband" making it impossible for Joss to smile the way any wife in this situation should have. "He's asking for you." Doctor Napoli smiled still, no cracks or chips or dings in the foundation of goodwill that seemed to follow her wherever she appeared.

"Well," Joss wasn't going back into that room. She swallowed, looked for a reason not to that wouldn't sound like she'd just made it up. "He should spend some time with his father," she said to the beautiful doctor. "After all, that old man has had him a lot longer than I have."

Doctor Napoli nodded and didn't seem too worried about what Joss had told her, and Joss was hoping that this would be it, she'd go off and make someone else's day brighter…and it looked almost like that would happen, until Doctor Napoli's hand appeared on Joss's shoulder, pulling her towards one of the green couches and gently pushing her down into it, the lovely, island dancer doctor taking a seat beside her. "He's not your husband, is he?" She said it very secretively, but so open mindedly, but Joss was still shocked and then panicked.

"Yes he is!" She snapped back like a three year old arguing over who owned a toy…but really, what did it matter that anyone found out that she wasn't exactly the 'next of kin' now? Ope was out of the woods, she didn't really have to "stay with him" anymore, did she?

But Doctor Napoli didn't share her panic, if anything she seemed to be more relaxed…and encouraged…she smiled and leaned back against the couch cushion, leaning her elbow against the green fabric and supporting the side of her head in her hand. "I think someone is," she said as if she'd found a missing puzzle piece on the floor while vacuuming. "But it's not either of the two Mr. Winstons in there."

Oh hell! But Joss sighed…she was too tired to try to argue this, and besides, she wasn't going to fight that hard to be recognized as Opie's wife…oh God…what if she really did love him, love him? There was something heavy to what she and Ope had…and she was praying it wasn't that…but hey, if she finally let the truth about who she was and wasn't be known, maybe this good looking, easy going, intelligent doctor would go back in and take Ope's pulse a few more times…she did seem kind of 'interested' before, and if she thought Ope was hot now, then she'd really be blown away when he healed up and stood all of that six foot four inch frame of muscles and boyish softhearted-ness up and got on his bike! Oh God…where had that come from? How long had Joss been looking at Ope like that and didn't realize it? Okay, yeah…this charade was over…it had served its purpose, and now it was done! "Okay, Ope's not my husband." Joss finally affirmed, quietly, her hand cupped over the side of her mouth as she hissed the words to Doctor Napoli. "So I guess I'll take myself out of here before you have security do it."

Doctor Napoli laughed though and shook her head, red curls bouncing happily. "It's okay," she said and Joss knew it was. "Don't ask, but I have this way of looking at people and knowing if they fit together or not…and you and Mr. Winston…you are important to one another, but when it comes to being with each other, you just…don't fit."

Joss sighed audibly, her eyes closing; she was so relieved to hear those words! And when she looked back again, there was that encouraged look on Doctor Napoli's face, her green eyes shining brightly like she was so full of hope…hmm…maybe the good doctor's "way of looking at people" had told her that she and Ope "fit together?" Good! Good on so many levels! Joss had told Ope that there were a lot things out there that could make him happy…and she had high hopes that Doctor Napoli was the one that could make him the happiest! Hmm…yeah…oh yeah…Joss didn't have every detail worked out just yet…but she was going to get Opie to "fit" with Doctor Napoli if she had to cut off pieces of him to do it! Well…maybe not quite like that...it shouldn't be that gruesome, anyway. Yay! Now Joss was happy and excited, she looked back at Doctor Napoli and smiled herself. "Ope's a great guy; I'm not sure why he doesn't have someone to rush in here with him that really is his wife."

Something made Doctor Napoli give a happy little jerk, but it was so momentary that only someone who was hoping that she'd understand that Ope was single would have noticed, and Joss did. Both women were smiling now, some unspoken thing transpiring between them…good…the club needed a new doctor…so why not just marry this one off to Ope and solve all the problems at once? "So," Doctor Napoli looked at Joss now like they were having coffee together and talking about their weekend plans. "I am correct, right? You do have a husband?"

"Yes, I do," Joss smiled back, feeling so renewed, the morning sun such a blessing and the hope of a new day filling her. "Tig," she answered and felt everything that was her man explode within her…God she loved him! And he was on his way, he'd said he was, Joss's heart began to race…she wanted to see him, but she didn't need 'saving' now…she was okay…well, mostly…she was going to create a couple out of Doctor Napoli and Ope, but there was still something there…some weird, intricate, web of love between herself and Ope that Joss wouldn't feel comfortable with until she understood it. Oh no…oh God…it wouldn't hurt to lose Ope to Doctor Napoli, would it?

And then her thoughts didn't matter because there was a sudden shout from around the corner. "His wife in there?" and then a heavy, angry fist came down against a clipboard on the edge of the nurse's station counter, the clipboard flipping up into the air, papers fluttering like bird's wings as the clipboard somersaulted in the air and hit the ground with a resounding "crack!" But it wasn't over, the sound of a pencil cup sliding rapidly along the laminated formica and crashing against the floor, pens rolling across the linoleum as two angry fists now pounded on the counter top and a heavy, biker boot kicked harshly at the front wall of the horseshoe shaped nurse's desk. "She's my God damn wife!" Joss sighed again…oh, what a mess!

Beside her Doctor Napoli reacted coolly, acknowledging the tirade around the corner with another raised eyebrows and pinched expression, but she never jumped or ducked for cover. Instead she looked over at Joss and nodded her head a little, "that would be Tig, huh?" she asked as if she was already starting to see some kind of "fit" without even laying eyes on Joss's man.

Author's Note: Thank you to GO4ITGIRL for suggesting the little scene with Tig finding out who Joss said she was in the Emergency Room! If you enjoyed it, please give her the props she deserves!

And as always, thanks to all who read and review! This story creeps along on the life your words breathe into it, and I'm always so excited and grateful to hear whatever you have to say, or any suggestions you'd like to make! So, feel free to make them! I've certainly lucked out with having attracted such intelligent and thoughtful readers and reviewers like yourselves! Thanks again! - Grace


	77. Herd Mentality

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of a sexual nature._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 77

Joss's throat hurt, it was actually sore, but she didn't dare move, just let Tig clamp his hand over the back of her head and grind his hips upwards against her chin and mouth where she leaned over him. He lay on his back in their bed, it was always easier to deep throat his long, thick cock this way, and Joss had given him this many times since they'd returned home from the hospital, but it wasn't rare to develop a sore throat from the act. When she worked his big erection slowly, drawing out Tig's pleasure and fueling his need, the size of his cock always wore a path of soreness from just behind her tongue and well into her throat. But Joss didn't mind, she had learned to ignore such things. Feeling all the muscle and power that Tig was shaking and quaking beneath her, gasping for a desperate breath under siege of the pleasure she assaulted him with far out stood any bit of pain.

She hadn't gotten very much sleep since they'd come home, Tig's desires more wicked than usual and Joss eager to keep up with them all…she'd wanted her man, and he'd come to her…again and again and again he'd cum…he was cumming now and Joss knew how to be what he wanted, letting Tig cram his big, hard cock as far down her throat as it would go, her nose and lips buried in the coils of black hairs at his groin, still moving her head up and down, feeling every jerk and bulging contraction of the big, stiff thing in her mouth and throat, letting all of Tig's aching violence build and whine, her own tired body thrilled by the way her man groaned and gasped and growled, his strong body seized in the grip of this latest climax…which finally broke over him, his thick cock still hard and spurting weak fluid way past her gag reflex as the rest of Tig's body sank back into the mattress and collapsed there, finally satisfied…but for how long? It was taking a lot to get him sated, not that this was something new, there were times when Tig just stayed hard and kept chasing after an orgasm that only came in splintered little bits instead of the tsunami wave he sought, but this was a little different, like he was trying to make some kind of point, or forget one, within all the rough, endless sex. That extra "Y" chromosome…it allowed her man to express himself in so many ways…

Tig was a lot of things when Joss had finally seen him at the hospital…he was angry and outraged to hear her referred to as being another man's wife…but under that was this primal energy stirred to life by perverse wildness, a carnality of a different kind that Joss had recognized on him the moment he'd touched her and pulled her close. Despite the fumes of all that Tig had tried so diligently to wash all the remnants of his work away with, the coppery smell of blood remained…but not just the smell of blood. Joss knew that odor, she'd smelled it on him once before… like being in one of those butcher shops that was attached directly to a slaughterhouse.…Tig smelled of flesh, of carved muscle, scraped fat and gutted innards…but Joss said nothing, why should she? He wouldn't tell her. Her man only needed her to understand and then comply…and so she had, there was no talking, just her barely keeping up as Tig took her hand roughly and yanked her down the hallway to the hospital chapel. She was not surprised when he kicked open the chapel doors, dragged her inside and then grabbed a long and thin statue of the Blessed Virgin and thrust it through the chapel's door handles, blocking anyone from coming in, then pushing Joss up against the wall, leaning into her with all his weight, kissing every part of her Tig could reach while a big, hard, heavy thing probed solidly against her body, seeking entrance. He was somewhat like a cat, it's low, guttural cries ringing out proudly as it presented its favorite person with the mouse or bird it had caught and killed…then expecting a reward.

Joss's throat still hurt a little even as she stepped out of the bathroom from brushing her teeth, she'd lost count of how many times she'd given her man head since they'd gotten home, but how many more times he'd want it was the real question. She loved it when Tig fucked her like this, every hard-on he got harder than the last and each time he fucked her he was even more hungry and desperate than before, switching from her pussy to her mouth and then back again, fucking her like he couldn't cum fast or hard enough. But once he did, he fell back against the mattress, stretched out and so calm and so placid, hardly had the strength to move…looking as though he could never understand the frenzied desire that had befallen him only moments ago, and Joss smiled. Something was different about him, but regardless of that, Tig was a lot, not many woman could take what he brought at times like this, from the smell that lingered on him to the meanness of his desires and the carnage of his pursuit in fulfilling his needs. But she could, she had; Joss was not without her own power, the power to bring Tig to his knees and then render him nearly unconscious, just like he was now.

"Stop it," Tig groaned; the usual annoyance sharp and showy in his voice. He still laid there, almost spread eagle in their bed, his eyes closed, and if he hadn't spoken Joss would have assumed he was asleep.

"Stop what?" She asked, still standing naked and victorious in the doorway of the bathroom where it joined the bedroom and she smiled a bit, trying to hide it just incase Tig had cracked his eyelids up just enough to peer at her from beneath them…something was different.

"Looking at me like that," he replied, keeping to his usual annoyed tone. "I'm not some…some…abominable snowman thing that you taught to hang stars on top of Christmas Trees."

Tig really didn't want her to, Joss could tell, but she couldn't help it and she burst out laughing. "Oh my God," she smiled and giggled, but turned her head away from her man, giving him that much respect, but still, she just couldn't believe what she knew now. "You've watched 'Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer!'"

Tig growled at her, stifling Joss, Tig's eyes eventually opening and he scowled at her. "So did you!" He reminded as thought it were something to stop her cold, but Joss only laughed again, and Tig flopped over onto his stomach, escaping it all with his arms and hands wrapping around the back of his head, conceding that he'd botched up laying down whatever law he'd attempted to lay down.

"It's okay, Tig," Joss smiled and moved towards their bed, not laughing anymore though she was still kind of tickled to know that about him. "We all do things we regret," Joss furthered, but she laughed a bit then as she said it, climbing back into bed beside him and Tig sighed heavily beside her. Something was different…poor guy…hmm…maybe he was starting to feel a little too domestic, that could have been part of the reason for all the attack-like sex…but only part…the majority of that catalyst was anything but domestic…or sane…that came from literally cutting down and obliterating a man…or woman…it wouldn't matter…blood and sinew and organs…he was Tig, and he was into what he was into. Hmm…Joss knew what she had to do, and Joss got up on her knees, kneeling beside Tig's broad back, starring down at the reaper ink that would forever mark him as a man of great and fierce brotherhood…but there was so much more beneath it that no one, save for her, would ever understand. Gently and lightly Joss reached out and pressed her hands against the top rocker of his tattoo, beginning to press into the muscle beneath it, feeling the sullen constriction beginning to release against her touch. "Is that alright?" she asked Tig, more out of formality and deference than anything else.

Tig didn't answer and Joss wasn't surprised when he didn't. But he did arch his back a bit into her ministering fingers, allowing her to touch him…and for a moment Joss remembered how it all begun between them, the days when he rarely bothered to take her to an actual bed, and if he did, he chased her out of it once he was done with her. Okay, Tig needed a return to that, for just a little while…she'd rub his back, apologize in the only way he'd be interested in receiving the sentiment from her, and then she'd let him have the bed…until she was called back to it.

She incorporated more pressure, rubbing with all her fingers and her thumbs now, swinging her leg over and straddling Tig's back so she could give him a proper back rub, pushing the tension out of his body as both her palms compressed lightly on either side of his spine from bottom to top and then down again. Tig gave another groan, this one quieter and not as sharp as the other and he moved his arms, eyes still closed as he pulled a pillow under his head and folded his hands underneath it. Joss smiled, he was coming out of this little funk, and she'd known to expect them. "Thank you," she said softly to him, contemplating her own words and feeling how much she truly meant what she was saying and why. Tig was Tig, he did things that only Tig would do…he wasn't Ope…Ope loved her, and Joss knew she loved him too…however it was that she did…but Ope could never even think of the things that Tig so willingly did for her.

"For what?" His voice startled her a bit; she hadn't expected him to speak. Joss knew he wouldn't discuss what he'd done, but maybe, he really wanted to hear what he knew she already knew anyway? No…it wasn't that…he never told her anything, and he sure as hell didn't want her letting on that she knew anyway, even if he knew she did.

"For not letting anything I suffer go unpunished," Joss answered, careful with her words still, now was not the time to go overboard on how much she loved him or how great he was…Tig was full of triggers at a time like this, he was a minefield of his own clashing feelings; wanting to be close and love her, but still fighting it and hating whatever it was that made him want it in the first place. "You deserve a 'thank you' for that, so I said it."

Tig sighed again, she'd already said too much. His body got tense again, something building. She'd often watched nature shows where five or six people jumped onto the back of an alligator, all of them talking about how they had to move fast with whatever it was they were doing, because crocodilians could store up struggle and power and let it all go in a sudden thrashing and rolling angry outburst…and that's just what Joss was feeling now...Tig, something was building, but the words he said next didn't match the wildness under his skin. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you." Joss responded immediately, but felt Tig rolling over now, shoving at her with his hands until she was on her knees beside him again and he was now on his knees in front of her, gripping her around both her biceps, hard, squeezing like he might shake the life out of her, anger and loss burning like sickness in his clear, blue eyes. Joss didn't breathe.

"Then don't you fuckin' ever say you're anybody else's wife again!" He roared, the depth of his voice reverberating inside her chest, but Joss didn't turn away, the last thing Tig wanted was her to turn away from him. She understood; she'd promised him 'forever' and he was holding her to it in every way he could. Forever, in the ground…the same dust…Ope…no. Okay, of course Tig was bothered by…no, he wasn't 'bothered', he was hurt…it had really hurt him…he'd been out all night, in darkness, punishing whatever made her suffer, only to be rejoined with her and hear her referred to as the wife of another man? That's what she'd done while he'd been in darkness? He'd said he'd give her the choice to join him in the ground…but, is had that been it? No, she'd never do that again…even if Tig did on some level understand why she may have said she was Opie's wife. There was still another, more powerful level that just couldn't handle losing her in any sense…domestic…no not ever, he'd always be Tig. She was on her back with Tig urgently fucking her again before she even realized it, all of his strength and distorted want poured into every deep, stabbing thrust, like trying to tattoo her with himself.

Chapter 77; Part 2

"Bad Company" by the band of the same name awoke Joss at…whatever time it was…early morning from the looks of the amount of sunlight in the room, but when Joss tried to reach for her phone to quiet it, she found that she was still held securely against Tig's big body, her back to his broad, hairy chest, one of his strong arms threaded through the arch between her ribs and hip from underneath her and the other wrapped securely across her breasts, holding onto her shoulder. Even his leg clasped her to him, lying over her hip, sealing her within his possessive keep, never to be let go of…his wife. She smiled, though she still felt badly about bringing Tig to this tangle he'd tied them both within, and she tried again to reach for her phone without waking him, wanting to let him sleep just a little longer. She loved him and he deserved a bit more peace.

"Who is that?" Tig's craggy voice surprised her again, but he was awake, his breath stippling against her shoulder as he refused to let go of her still, though he was calm now, confident in what he'd conveyed to her hours ago and how well she'd understood it.

"Lauren," Joss answered, giving up on reaching the phone before it stopped ringing. "I'll call her back later."

"Lauren?" Tig repeated as if he wasn't familiar with the name, but then all of a sudden he was, letting go of Joss quickly and wide awake. "No baby, you gotta get that!"

She did? But Joss didn't ask; she just lunged for her phone as she was told to do, managing to answer it in the split second before it shut off. "Lauren?" She almost yelled into it as she put her phone to her ear and noise, like wind and then some yelling and hoof beats thundering by, accompanied by whinnying, on the other end confirmed that her friend had not hung up yet.

"Joss!" Lauren sounded relieved, and peeved, to have gotten in contact with her, making Joss nervous…something had happened…oh God…were the horses okay? "Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you since yesterday!"

"What?" Joss didn't remember her phone ringing…oh…oh yeah. "Sorry, I was at the hospital, I had to have my phone turned off unless I was outside with it, and then I forgot it was off until the middle of last nigh—"

"Whatever," Lauren sighed sort of angrily, which wasn't like her; she sounded like she'd been dealing with something that was both unexpected and a lot of work, and she'd come to the end of her rope for getting it all figured out and cared for. "Look, could you just get over here? We've got…a development!"

"What?" Joss said again, but then her initial fear returned. Tig had handled the meat man…but at what cost? Was there some sort of payback strike from an accomplice of the fat, disgusting meat buyer? Oh God…the big blond Belgian stud…was he alright? "Did something happen to the horses?"

On the other end of the line, Lauren laughed, but not like something was truly funny. "You could say that!" She almost quipped, but then Joss could hear her tilt her phone away from her mouth for a moment, and when Lauren did, Joss could hear a lot of hooves all hitting the ground, what sounded like a massive herd of big horses galloping off, and there was this other sound in the midst of it that she couldn't place…until Lauren filled in the blanks, sounding so very very very fed up as she did, yelling even. "Juice! Stop…clucking! They don't like that, and it's not helping! What is wrong with you? I swear if you approach another horse going 'cluck cluck cluck' and flapping your arms, I am going to ring your neck, pluck your feathers and throw you in a stew pot with hot water and some noodles!"

"Lauren, what the hell is going on?" Joss was now yelling herself, trying not to laugh…but it sounded ridiculous…and confusing…and her friend really did sound overwhelmed, like she was about to start pulling her hair out…along with Juice's alluded to feathers…wow…Lauren was lucky she was with Juice, because Juice would let that slide, even apologize for doing whatever it was that had made Lauren yell at him like that…but none of Tig's other brothers would have handled it that way.

There was a crackling sound on the line as Lauren once again returned her phone near to her mouth, the hoof beats subsiding now, along with the whinnying. "Look," she said flatly and sighed again. "The horses are fine, okay? But when I got up yesterday morning to come out and feed everyone, we no longer had four of them, plus Markus, Skip and Sam."

Cold fear washed over Joss. "Oh no! Did someone come and steal—"

Again Lauren laughed, but not at anything funny. "Kind of," she replied then paused, obviously wanting to floor Joss with the impact of her next words. "We don't have four Draft Horses anymore, Joss." She said, pausing once more, Joss on pins and needles, getting to her feet out of the bed, anxious to hear what the damage had been…how many horses were left, and how were they going to get them back? And finally Lauren spoke again. "I think someone you know did some 'stealing'…because now we have thirty-six Draft Horses! What are we going to do?"


	78. All the Pretty Horses

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 78

Thirty-six tall, stout horses running and playing inside the quarantine pen really was a fine sight; so many colors and feathered feet, gorgeous muscles rippling as they ran, they were all like gods…even if they were a bit in need of a bath and a good grooming…as well as a hoof trim…and dentist visit…and vet check up…and a better diet of more nutritious feed…yeah, they were all gorgeous standing out there looking noble…but…all that took money…oh God, what were they going to do?

But for the moment the girls just watched them all, admiring the herd they'd amassed…without trying to…so many huge feet clomping against the ground, big, wide chests looking like they were puffed out proudly, thick necks stretching downwards when they stopped to graze, but huge knees flicking high as they took off running once more. It was difficult to see all of the horses individually, there were just so many of them, but some managed to stand out whether due to size or color. There were sorrel Belgians, Blond Belgians, black Percherons, gray Percherons, bay Clydesdales, spotted Drafts of white and brown and white and black, some with blue eyes that seemed to glow against the sunny morning. And then there were Draft crosses, many types, a mahogany bay Clydesdale and Thoroughbred cross, his auburn coat glinting in the sun, his black main and tail tangled as well as the hint of white feathering around his slim fetlocks. There was an Appaloosa and Draft of some type cross with big, sturdy looking bones graced with a beautiful spotted coat of white, black and brown. And then there were some that looked to be Warmbloods, which were the result of Draft cross being bred to Draft cross for thousands of years until the two hybrids created a new breed. One Warmblood was particularly eye catching, though in rough shape, but he was a big, tall, elegant blood bay. Even covered in mud and dust his deep, bright red coat shown in the sunlight like the crimson ends of Joss's hair, and beside him ran a pair of Norwegian Fjord Draft ponies that delighted Joss to her core. The Fjords weren't as tall as the others, maybe fifteen hands at the very most, but their sunny dispositions shown through the dirt on their light bay coats and tangled creamy manes and tails, their jet black dorsal stripes that ran from between their ears down into their tails so striking against their yellowish colored, muscled bodies.

Joss was giddy. So many horses…so many colors and breeds and cross breeds, so much power and strength and gallantry all contained within their quarantine pen. Tig…oh God she loved him…and he'd loved her enough to give her, and Lauren, this! But giddiness had no place in the face of what lay ahead, there were so many things that had to be done, they couldn't be ignored. One horse was expensive…but nearly forty of them? Oh! The care and feed and space they'd need was dizzying to ponder, but right now it didn't stop both Joss and Lauren from looking out at all their many horses and feeling so very rich.

"Well," Joss sighed and looked over at Lauren. "I guess we should get to it, start bringing them in one by one and looking them over…then separate the mares from the boys and further split the boys into geldings and studs, huh?"

"Yeah," Lauren nodded, "I never got that far yesterday. The only help I had was Juice…and he's…well…"

"I know," Joss laughed…Juice was the 'chickenman.' "But we're both here now, it'll be a long day, but we can handle this. Let's go get some lead ropes and horse cookies, and see who we can convince to take a little walk with us down to the barn."

"Do we have enough horse cookies to bribe all of them with?" Lauren laughed, but then she sighed as a new realization hit her. "My barn's not built to handle this many Drafts, Joss! If we take one in there who isn't used to being cross tied, and he or she reacts badly and goes into a panic, they could rip out the support beams the cross ties are bolted into and the whole building will collapse on top of us!"

Wow, Lauren wasn't usually so pessimistic, but then again, she had been dealing with all of the responsibility all on her own for a day now; no wonder she was so negative…thirty-six Draft Horses and Draft crosses, plus Sam, Markus and Skip was a lot! Lauren's farm was a good twelve acres, but only five of them were fenced. Barns that had over thirty horses were more than twice the size of Lauren's place, with plenty of fenced pasture, and also plenty of unfenced fields to grow hay and straw for the horses to eat. Yeah…they were stuck…what were they going to do? But at least one of them had to maintain a calm exterior…panicked and nervous people created panicked and nervous horses, and Lauren was right, her barn was in no way ready to meet such a foe. Joss looked out at all the horses again, all the colors, all the big, strong bodies, all the lives that had been saved, and it was easy to smile. "Well, we'll make sure we clip them into the cross ties with the safety clips, that way if one of them tries to rear or bolt, the clip will let go before we lose a support beam. We'll just have to pay extra attention so we don't get run over by these big bull dozers." Lauren listened and looked a bit more convinced, but still, she was seeing the much bigger picture, and she couldn't stop worrying about it…and it kept getting more complicated, too.

"Oh no!" Lauren suddenly sighed and her hands went to her face like she was trying to hide from something. "The mares," she said and looked at Joss with white features. "What if some, or all of them, are in foal?"

And now Joss felt some of the blood drain from her face too. Here they were trying to figure out the care and keeping of thirty some horses, when there may well be pregnant mares in that quarantine pen. Oh God…what were they going to do? "You just have to keep piling it on, don't you?" She half groaned to Lauren, but they were facing a real crisis that still had no solution. Well…Joss already sort of knew that there was one…she just wasn't sure how well it would be received, or how long it would take. "Look Lauren," Joss began, "I know this is a crazy amount of horses to have, and I know it's ridiculous to just wake up one morning with them all, but I'll make sure we get what we need, okay?"

Lauren nodded, but her mind still raced, looping around and around the word "need" and it wouldn't stop. "We need to hire someone, Joss." She said and looked out at the horses. "There's no way you and I can take care of this many horses. We need to start talking about what kind of money we have to pay someone, with loads of horse experience, to come up here, full time, and help out with everything they're going to require."

Chapter 78; Part 2

The wrong Trager has come to visit me. Really, I should re-think my words, Tig's here because he genuinely wants to see how I'm doing, he needs me to be me…which is actually more than I can say for Jax, and that really does suck, but I blame Jax more than I do Tig for that. Jax does accept anyone for who they are…as long as who they are is inclined to agree with him about everything…but there's no room for being honest, or even unbiased, in that…I should know…it's why I'm here and not in Texas. And Tig…he's here because I stayed.

"So," things are still kind of stiff and awkward when you leave me and Tig alone in a room together, we both know too much about one another to ever fully relax around the other…maybe that's good. "You get everything handled okay at…the place we were working?"

Tig nods, he's still in his garage shirt, it's a few minutes after twelve, he's using his lunch break to come and see me…I'm his VP, the cards are on the table, and he's already playing them with great respect…I'm impressed, though I don't really want to be. "Yeah," he replies and then there's that awful, horrible, 'Tig' smile again. "I'd watch what I was frying up in Europe if I were some French fuck or some shit," he laughs.

"Joss know?" I ask, but that's not really what I want to know and Tig probably knows that too.

He shakes his head and sighs, rolling his eyes. "She's good, Ope." He assures me, and then I can feel the door closing on that whole topic, but the door to my room is opening.

I'm not sure how I got my own personal physician, but I have it seems…she makes me a little nervous. She's gorgeous, not like the girls around Charming or the club…she's like Joss in that aspect…Joss is the most beautiful and unique girl that has ever associated with this club, but this lady doctor…who said to call her "Verda," is different like that too. She's…like some rare butterfly that drifted into Charming on stormy winds and has managed to find a place to flit around in, making people smile every time her dark, green eyes look at them. Her skin is very tan…no, it's actually prettier than a tan, she's got naturally curly hair that she's found harmony with, not battling it with all the many things I've seen Croweaters and Sweetbutts attacking their not so perfect locks with before club parties. This lady doc is beautiful because she's okay with who she is, and once again, here she is, smiling down at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologizes to me, and Tig, turning towards him with that smile…and I kind of thought that smile was only for me, but I guess not…damn. "I didn't realize Mr. Winston had a visitor, I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's your hospital," Tig answers, but he's not paying very much attention to her the way he usually would have been or even should be…Jesus, she's gorgeous, does he not see that? Well, maybe he doesn't…he's got Joss…there's no telling what I wouldn't notice if I had her either.

"You're Tig, correct?" Verda is still smiling…Verda…did I really just call her that? Anyway, Tig looks back at her now like he's trying to figure out why in hell she knows his name…hmm, let's see, it's on your shirt, FruitLoop! But then Verda corrects my assumption. "We met the other night, after the confusion at the nurse's desk?"

Confusion? Ha! Verda's such a lady! But Tig remembers now, at least he sort of does. "You're the one who showed up with my old lady and got everything straightened out, right?" He asked and Verda nods and smiles again…straightened out…I only got to live with Joss as my wife while I was hanging by a few threads in some thick, strange darkness…after I woke up, and I asked to see her…she never came back to me…now I know the reason why…it came to see me on its lunch hour. "Thanks," Tig tells Verda, and he doesn't part with that word easily…maybe whatever it is that she's got has made it over all of his walls and spikes and razor wire too?

"My pleasure," Verda responds and I wait for Tig to say something stupid and crass like "it could be," but he's quiet…damn…I know he loves Joss, but does he realize he loves her that much? But why wouldn't he…I do…but she never came back to me…and then there's a hand on my shoulder and I look up to see that Verda has this concerned look on her face…shit…I pull the sheet up my leg, am I bleeding? They said I had to stay in here until they were sure the inner stitches would hold, and there was a lot of big muscle around them that could create friction…blah blah blah…whatever, the point is I'm still under observation and if something did just rip and I've sprung a leak, then I'll never get out of here…and Joss still won't come to see me. "Are you in pain?" Verda asks me…and she is beautiful…but why the hell she worries about me so much I have no clue. "Your expression just kinda, I don't know, got kind of somber."

"Yeah, it does that." Tig interjects over Verda's shoulder from the chair he's sitting in, and he probably knows what I was just thinking…hmm…do I routinely walk around with some…some disappointed, "I want Joss face" on? Will that ever stop? It has to!

I look up at Verda…what's she doing here, in Charming, worrying over some outlaw biker? "I'm good," I tell her, find a smile from somewhere to plaster on. "It's just…you know—" I don't know what I was trying to say, but Verda picks up my right hand, supporting it in one hand and taking my pulse with the other…and there's just something about the way she does that, like she's touching some part of me that is so much deeper than that little two finger wide spot on my wrist…I remember that touch, even through the haze of darkness I swam through, that soft pressure that tingled in my blood and turned the smog and blackness into some kind of fantastic laser light show. I don't know what she's got, or why I seem to feel it more than anyone else does, but…Jesus, I just don't know.

Author's Note: Hi again! How's everyone liking everything? In addition to my usual "thank yous" to all of you who read and particularly to those of you who review, I have a few things to let you know.

#1. My mother is having surgery on Friday June 17th and will be recovering the week thereafter, so if I am not able to post a new chapter every day, that's why. It's not because I got sick myself (again) or decided to stop writing this story. I just wanted to make you all aware, because I do consider this to be OUR story and not only my story, and you deserve to know what's going on with the writing of it.

#2. The lovely and talented Miss ALYKAT4LIFE is feeling better (Yay!) and has asked me if there are any other scenes from Tijo that I would like her to sketch. Well, yes…but I feel rather selfish making decisions like that considering that this is OUR story. So, I put it to all of you who love this story to make your suggestions of Tijo things you would like to see illustrated! Please leave your suggestions for ALYKAT4LIFE in your reviews where she will be able to read them, and so will everyone else!:-) I'm looking forward to seeing what you suggest, and thank you Aly for volunteering your time and talents once again! We are all too fortunate!

#3. The Tijo Photo Album has been UPDATED! Click on the link to the Photobucket page in my profile to see updated and added photos of things that have been mentioned in this chapter and previous chapters. As always, feel free to ask any questions or leave any comments in your reviews or on photos in the album itself.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing! I'm so lucky to have readers like you to make this our story with! - Grace


	79. A Good Cause

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 79

"Joss, I need another cashbox, or an envelope to empty this one into!" Chucky was yelling as he collected another handful of registration fee from about the four hundredth rider who stood on the other side of the card table. He, Lauren, Joss and even Gemma were busy, all of them under the little ten by ten canopy tent at their respective card tables, taking money, making change, taking information, handing out forms and maps, and welcoming everyone to the first annual SAMCRO sponsored Charming Rescue Ride-Athon.

"Here," Gemma was the first to have enough of break between registrations to grab a large manila envelope and hand it over to Chucky, "put it in the big lockbox behind you," the queen reminded and Joss was so glad that Gemma was here to keep things moving in the orderly fashion they needed to move in. But who better to do that but Gemma, who was queen of fundraising events as much as she was queen of SAMCRO? Joss was only just finishing up with her latest participant, checking the date on the Coggins form, making sure it was negative…no communicable equine diseases were allowed on Lauren's farm…and then she gave the mother and young daughter trail riding partners two back numbers, three hundred ninety-three and three hundred ninety-four. Wow…the response was unbelievable! Joss was smiling, so was Gemma as she looked her direction. "You know, this was a really great idea," said the queen proudly, eyeing Joss with that sly smile on her lips as Gemma gestured for the next participant in line to come forward. "I wasn't sure you could pull this off in such little time, but you did. Good job, baby girl!"

Joss felt herself blush, Gemma's approval held so much more depth and truth than anyone else's did, except for Tig's of course, and the weight of it all was nearly too much to bear, Joss having to push herself on and not allow herself to grin like an idiot and laugh like a fool…or cry…Gemma had told her "good job!" But this had been a good idea! Better than Joss initially thought it would be, people were coming from more than just Charming, they were showing up with their horses from two or three counties away. And technically, it was only the first day of the fundraiser! Today was about horses, Endurance and Distance Trail Riding, all the participants who were paying their fifty dollar registration fee this morning had also been given a pledge sheet about two weeks ago and almost eighty percent of them had signed up sponsors who would donate "x" amount of dollars for every quarter of a mile the participant rode. It was autumn, the weather was perfect for riding, the temperature wasn't so high and the sun not so bright that sun-block was needed; this was luxury for trail riding, and there were a lot of beautiful trails, with creek and stream crossings and a few other fun obstacles that the girls had shored up on Lauren's farm from wide, low to the ground wooden bridges strong enough to support horse and rider, to a few two to three foot high hunter fences to jump over.

The trail began and ended at Lauren's farm, there were horse trailers as far as the eye could see on Lauren's property, and all thirty-nine of Joss and Lauren's horses lined the fences, whinnying and calling to all the strange horses that came rolling past their pasture, but there was no territorial malice in any of their cries, no snorts or grunts…it was like those rescued Drafts, Warmbloods and Draft crosses knew that all of these strange people and their horses were here to help them, that the money they brought with them would buy their food and medical care, and keep their feet and teeth in good shape, and hopefully Joss and Lauren would make enough to buy a few more acres around Lauren's place and build some new fences too. It was looking likely, though no one wanted to jinx things by stopping to count the money coming in before all the participants had paid and were registered.

But as nice as the weather was and as wonderful as the trails were, the real draw had been the spot Joss had chosen for everyone to ride to and have a picnic. The riders and horses would depart Lauren's farm through the woods, over the hills where they'd eventually end up at Evermore…a permit to be riding at the old church appearing only a week ago in Juice's hands…both Lauren and Joss too smart to question how, they'd just kept it on hand, expecting they might need it. The weather was great, but it was Evermore that had been what made this fund drive such a success; it was nearly Halloween…what a perfect time to ride out to the old, creepy church? Joss smiled again…Evermore was her and Tig's; they'd always see something in it and have a connection to it that no one else could understand. Their son lay in wait for them there, and it comforted her to know that he'd have visitors today, that the happy sounds of people and horses would ring over his grave…and since this was an annual event, one day the same happy sounds would ring over her and Tig's own grave there too. She and Tig had agreed they needed to "open up" the insane obsession that bound them together…and Joss was, in her own way.

"Hey, we're almost out of fruit juice and iced tea!" Poor Sack…the guys had dumped him there underneath the "lunch tent" canopy where every participant stopped to pick up their brown bag lunch. Gemma had convinced the local sandwich shop to donate five hundred bagged lunches for the participants in the Ride-Athon, and Sack was sitting under with all five hundred bags, making sure everyone only took one. The rest of club was off on "parking lot" duty…uh-huh…sure they were…that ice chest in Lauren's barn that was full of beer didn't mean they were all actually hanging out in a box stall, sitting on bales of straw and talking about tits, did it?

"There's three more pallets of beverages in the back of my truck, Sack." Lauren called to the prospect without even looking up from what she was doing. There wasn't time to, they were really swamped…and swamped was good…really good! Maybe they'd be able to afford those extra acres and some more fencing after all! It was possible…the money pledged to the participants per quarter mile hadn't even come in yet, and tomorrow was day two of the fundraiser and it was all about bikes, the SAMCRO sponsored charity run to benefit the riding school and horse rescue…horse rescue…that's not what Joss or Lauren had predicted they'd be starting up, but thanks to Tig, they were now! But that was okay, after the initial panic settled, it became a shared passion between Joss and Lauren, and they'd worked like hell to get this fundraiser in order and have it be successful.

There wasn't much they hadn't thought of to draw people out, there were even door prizes…so to speak; Lauren and Joss had spent all day yesterday setting up a Scavenger Hunt type of scenario along the five mile trail, each map that went out to everyone riding today containing clues of hidden objects to look for as they rode, and whoever found them and brought them back at the end of their ride would win a prize…there was a fifty dollar gift certificate for the local salon, free movie passes for one month, two free cases of beer from Charming Discount Liquors, a free dinner for six at the pizza place on Main Street just to name a few…all hail queen Gemma…it had been her who had talked a lot of Charming's local businesses into donating to what was Joss's very first fundraising event. Gemma had even sought out two large animal veterinarians to be on hand at the event in exchange for them getting to register and ride the trails to Evermore and back free of the registration fee. But it was Joss who had secured a volunteer to run the first aid tent and render any medical assistance that was needed…Opie had been released from the hospital over a week ago…and Doctor Napoli was more than happy to come hang out at Lauren's, where Opie would also be, for a few hours. Again Joss smiled…Doctor Napoli and Ope…tomorrow's charity run would be even better! Wow, Joss's first fundraiser and her first scheming little "blind date" set up for Ope all in the same weekend!

And things were going great…with the Trail Ride fundraiser anyway, the rest remained to be seen, but given how wonderful things were today, Joss had high hopes for the charity run tomorrow…that would end not only with a big bonfire, but also as the "blind date." Wow…this really was great…all of it! And it was going so well…despite that neither Joss or Lauren, or Gemma for that matter, had slept at all last night, getting the final touches in order and sorting out all the last minute things. It had been an early morning…they'd met at Lauren's at six a.m., setting up tents, readying forms and putting change into lock boxes…and now it was seven thirty…the call to mount up would come soon…it was really happening…Joss's first ever club related fundraiser…and Gemma, the reigning queen of SAMCRO, approved!

Chapter 79; Part 2

Joss really was amazing. Tig had known that for awhile now, but standing here, in the barn with a can of beer in his hand and looking up the hill at her working her beautiful ass off at the registration tent, filled him with a whole new sense of pride. Since Joss introduced the idea of this fundraiser to him, seeking his approval, and then asking his approval to present it to the club, all Tig had been hearing about at church and other meetings was how Clay was respecting and assigning brothers to work "Joss's thing." They were mediocre words, nothing special about how it was described, but still…Joss had a "thing," his Joss! Tig had never figured that anyone could best Gemma when it came to organizing an event to raise money for a cause…but Joss…shit, she'd only had two weeks to put this together and she'd created something that felt every bit as organized and professional as the stuff Gemma did. Damn…Joss was only seventeen…no, wait, she was eighteen actually…but whatever…she was only eighteen and she'd pulled off some shit like this, and she wasn't even queen yet? Holy fuck…yeah, no one had an old lady like her, and that damn girl was going to be one hell of a queen!

Her mind was on her work and nothing else, answering questions, counting the money she was handed, making sure forms were correctly and completely filled out and signing off on them once they were, the last thing she had on her mind was how she looked, but it didn't matter, because she was so fucking beautiful looking the way she did up there under that registration tent. Her make-up hadn't changed any, those glittering, green eyes still shining up at people from the shadowy regality of a pharaoh's daughter; her hair was down, the length of it brushed over her shoulders and the red devil's tails at the ends of it licking at her back. She wore those tight riding breeches, black in color, that did all the right things for hips and her beautiful ass; a heather gray baby "T" shirt with a reaper on the front stretching pleasingly over those big, thirty-four double D's…that were his, all his. Joss didn't look back at him, she couldn't, she was way too busy; he'd never seen her like this, the creases in her brow as she pointed to something on the map she'd handed to the woman paying at Joss's table speaking volumes about how important this was to her and how well she was going to make it all go…and she was…Tig's sweet, dark, beautiful, perfect angel was a success…God damn it, he lived with her, slept with her every night, married her…and yet there were still times, like this one, when Tig looked at her, and could barely catch his breath.

"Hey," Tig was so entranced…by his own wife…which was really fucking stupid, but he was…that he didn't even notice that Ope had come down the hill to the barn. Ope was doing better, he could ride again, but he still walked with a bit of a stiff leg, but Doctor Napoli had said that would fade in time, once the muscles loosened up…Doctor Napoli…that was a lot to remember…if she was going to be hanging around the way she seemed to want to, then she needed another name…like island bitch…or bitch of paradise…no, what was that stuff she'd made the day Joss went to her place for lunch and then brought home the leftovers from…some kind of stewy shit, with hominy and white beans and tomatoes and chicken…that Joss of course wouldn't eat…it had some kinda weird name…casaba …no…cassowary…no…conchawabba…no…what the hell was conchawabba? And cassowary? That was a big fucking bird in Australia that could rip people's guts out with its feet…what? Why hell did he know that? Fuck it, Doctor Napoli was going to be Chupacabre, cuz that's all Tig could think of as far as the stew shit she'd made and sent home with Joss. Okay, Chupacabre…oh yeah…what did Ope want? Joss…what else…he'd obviously been buzzing around up at the registration tent, big surprise! Wait, Ope wasn't alone! Standing there next to him was short, curvy girl, all tits and ass; her blond hair died a purple-reddish color that was kind of streaky. But Ope wasn't looking at her. "Did Joss say anything to you about applications for a barn manager position being down here?"

"A what?" Tig replied, his attention split between Ope, his sweet, dark angel and the funky chick standing behind Ope…she was dressed in riding attire, she was obviously here for the event and knew how to ride…which meant she had to know horses too...hmm…okay, Joss had mentioned they she and Lauren were desperately trying to hire a barn manager, but an application for it? Granted, Joss had been crazy busy, but she'd never mentioned anything about any applications for shit! Tig looked back at Ope, and sort of at the purple haired, curvy girl in purple riding breeches…hey, at least she matched. "Joss send you down here with her?"

"Yeah," Ope answered and sighed, realizing that this was going to be a big mess of not knowing where anything was but was already thinking of solutions, turning to the short, purple girl, towering over her in ridiculous dimensions. "I guess we can take your number and your name, and Joss and Lauren can call you after the event?"

"No," Tig was pulling rank, he didn't like that idea…he knew Joss really needed that barn manager, taking a name and number would just prolong the search. He looked at the purple girl, cocked his head a little…hmm…what did she really know about horses? If it was more than what he knew, then that was good! "What's your name, doll?"

"Hayley," the purple girl smiled, her English accent surprising Tig, but encouraging him too…this was good…Joss rode English, and this chick was English…hey, this was perfect! Application? Who needed an application? Again Tig looked up the hill at his beautiful, busy, sweet, dark angel…she didn't have time to talk to any prospective barn managers…but Tig could…he looked back at purple girl…Hayley…and he smiled again…he could do this interview!

Author's Note: I am really sorry to be bothering anyone with my PM's about chapter updates. I'm not sure what the issue is here with the emails going out for the story updates, so I'm trying to fill in the blanks. I noticed that both the hits and the reviews were dropping down, and since I haven't gotten the last two chapter update emails, I'm assuming that yet another bug is to blame. But thank you for reading and reviewing nonetheless! You all know I'd be no where without you, and it's true!

And, major thanks to SANDPIPER86 for joining into the warped world of Tijo! Tig seems to like you, so good luck with the interview!:-)


	80. References

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 80

"What's this?" Tig held up a thing with a black bristle brush at one end of a green, plastic handle and a dull, metal hook on the other side of the brush…handling it like it was an ice pick and swinging it into the back of some imaginary foe's skull. His "interview" was more like some bizarre identification test, he just kept grabbing whatever lay nearby and holding it up to purple girl and asking her to name it…and she'd never run out of answers…whether they were the correct ones or not, Tig had no clue…but hey, at least she had answers.

"A hoofpick," said purple girl and she took a subtle step backwards…with every answer she seemed to be growing a little more doubtful of him…like he was maybe some mad farmer in black leather who arranged scarecrows into lewd positions, and confined to the barn for doing so and instructed not to scare folks…what? Whatever…c'mon, he was being nice, damn it! Where was Ope? Ope didn't know jack-shit about horses, but he probably knew how an interview was supposed to work…but where was Ope? Oh, yeah, back up on the hill, buzzing around Joss…stupid Chewbadooba…

Tig looked back at the object in his hand, so much less impressed with it now. "What's it do?" Tig asked next, but he was kind of surprised that what he was holding wasn't some kind of torture implement…it coulda worked as one in a pinch though…hmm…before purple girl could answer Tig tucked the "hoofpick" into his pocket.

"It's for cleaning out horse's feet with," Purple girl sighed, and looked at him even more strangely as he'd put the pick away for safe keeping. "Um, don't you wish to know of my work ethic, or references, or inform me of what the job entails?"

She had a cool accent, everything she said sounded so eloquent and mature…Tig liked making her talk, wanted to test how that highbrow accent would stand up to words like "dong" and "fuck bucket" and "uvula" and "Chupacabre"…what the hell was a "uvula?" Whatever, purple girl was right, Tig needed to ask some real questions. "Okay," he said almost thankfully and again looked around the barn, but he didn't know what a good "work ethic" was around horses…or what the job "entailed." But he had to come up with something…and purple girl would be taking care of animals…so…"Okay," he repeated, but this time because he was ready. "If you get here one morning, and all the horses ate some bad shit the night before, and you come in here and there's horse puke all over the place…" Tig paused, setting the scene with a wave of both his hands over the entire barn area…horse puke could be a game changer! He looked levelly at purple girl. "You gonna clean it up without being told to?"

Purple girl stifled a laugh. "Um…that scenario isn't possible," she said, still trying not to laugh. "Horses cannot regurgitate."

What? Ha! Tig caught purple girl up! If it ate, it puked! Right? He cocked his head and squinted his eyes a little at purple girl, challenging her. "Where you get that from?"

Purple girl sighed, but she wasn't really afraid of him or frustrated with him, it was more like she was just going to go ahead and tell Tig everything he should have been asking to know, she was obviously very open minded, non-judgmental; she wasn't from Charming, that was evident, and she'd seen his cut several times, but still she stood here, believing there was some kind of yet un-displayed "good" in him…which was a huge mistake on a girl's part about ninety-nine percent of the time…Joss being the remaining one percent. But it was cool that she was open minded…Joss was, and how the hell would Joss, and Hob-bitch, who was cool, get along with someone who had their head up their ass? "Here's how it is," began purple girl, "I'm not married, no children, only horses. I'm in school right now, but I will always be around horses. I've been riding since a very young age and have grown used to all sorts when it comes to both horses and people. My faults would be that I sometimes run a bit late to things; that being because I am so impulsive…I had not been seeking employment today, only to go on the trail ride, but then I saw the 'help wanted' posting, and here I am," she stopped a moment, looking squarely at Tig, who knew she had more to say, and then she did. "As well, I've given several lectures about equine anatomy," purple girl began, looking steady and proud. "The muscles in a horse's esophagus, the 'food tube,'" she paused to explain, like she didn't think Tig would follow otherwise…god damn it…he knew what an esophagus was, he'd seen lot's of 'em! But no…best to keep that to himself right now…he was trying to help Joss by finding her the barn manager she needed so badly, and if he scared purple girl, then that wouldn't happen…besides, he did actually kinda want to know why horses couldn't spew. Joss and Hob-bitch never talked about that bit of trivia. Purple girl cleared her throat a little and continued, confident Tig was following along. "The muscles of the equine esophagus can only contract in a downwards direction, so they can only send food down into the stomach, not bring it back up and out of the mouth."

"No shit?" Tig was impressed…more so with the whole "horse's can't puke" thing than he was that purple girl knew about it, but hey, she'd called the whole thing to his attention, so she got a point in her favor as far as the job went.

"Yes, it's true," confirmed purple girl, smiling now, her small hands on her rounded hips, angling herself more towards him now that she knew she'd impressed him, giving Tig that "yes, look at me" glance…she was into him…damn…what was it about horse women? Not that it mattered…it should have…but it didn't…and it sucked that it didn't, but it sill just fucking didn't…Joss…his sweet, dark, perfect angel…nothing else even came close…that damn girl had ruined him for all other bitches…dead or alive. God damn it! Tig sulked a moment, but looked up into the stare purple girl was giving him…horse women…hmm…was he like a horse? Was that it? If a girl could handle all that muscle and power on four legs, then they figured they could handle him too? Well…okay, Tig could live with that…all those extra "Y" chromosomes were already snorting and pawing at the ground…no, wait, that was a bull….shit…bull…cows…cows…no….no…no…fuck, why now? No! Holy shit, he was that mad farmer confined to the barn…being lewd with…with cows…cows…eight hundred cows! Noooooooooo! But he was losing his grip, it was dissipating the way it usually did, like desperately dangling at the end of a fraying rope that was spinning around and around as it unraveled…and then all of a sudden, purple girl started talking again, jostling his brain back to the conversation, and the cows…went home…to Capistrano…or whatever the fuck. Alright, purple girl was cool…yeah! Fuck the cows! Hmm…done! Oh no…no…not again…but then purple girl kinda cleared her throat and pulled Tig back again…yeah, she was cool…and she didn't even know it! Purple girl continued on, eying him admiringly, unaware of the cows or the trauma Tig had nearly suffered. "As well, the esophagus of a horse joins the stomach at an angle as such to close off the sphincter when and if the horse's stomach gets irritated and bloats," she paused a moment, like this wasn't a good thing. "That leads to 'colic,' gases build and build, the intestines twist and the stomach ruptures…and the horse dies."

And then the cows were really gone. What? The horse dies? But Joss…fuck, that "colic" shit just couldn't happen, not ever! Tig looked down at purple girl…she was really really short…almost as short as Hob-bitch…nice body, but it was all the way down there...not that it mattered…the horse died! "Can you stop that from happening?" He asked her urgently, hitting the word "you" pretty hard, as though there were horses out there in the corral about to keel over and she was his and their only hope.

"Well," purple girl shrugged, feeling like maybe she'd found her way in with this hot, sexy nut she'd met in the barn. Hot, sexy nut? Jesus…it sucked, but Tig really was better off confining himself to Joss…she got him, no one else was ever going to…but that damn girl wouldn't be able to handle it if a horse died…this was now a priority, whoever the barn manager was, they better know what the fuck they were doing and be able to help a sick horse! Purple girl had another answer, and Tig was eager to hear it. "There are a lot of things I can do to prevent it, like not over-feeding them, or not feeding them heavy grains immediately after they've been worked, making certain that their hay is not moldy, and not continuously changing the brand of feed they eat," she said, almost like she was trying to calm him down. "But some of them have stomach issues the same as some of us do and they are more prone to colic inspite of what you do. If it happens, you call the veterinary and keep the horse on its feet, walking him around, don't let him lie down and roll; rolling on the ground will twist intestines and stomach for certain."

Walk him around…walk him around…"Yeah," Tig replied, already seeing Joss with tears in her eyes, dialing the vet and Tig reminding her to do exactly what purple girl had just told him to do…Joss loved these horses…nothing bad could happen to them…purple girl seemed to know how to handle anything bad that might happen…all that was left was to "introduce" purple girl to Joss. "C'mere," Tig beckoned to her with one finger, purple girl moving up beside him and then Tig reached across her back and pushed her in the direction of the barn door, prompting purple girl to stare up the slight hill at where Joss was still hard at work under the registration tent. "That's my old lady," he told her, sort of giving each word an extra push so purple girl would understand that Tig wasn't interested in…shit…he didn't even want to finish that thought…it was depressing…but true…which made it more fucking depressing. "She'll be your boss," Tig said, then turned purple girl a bit, letting her see where he now pointed at Hob-bitch. "That's…my brother's old lady," fuck, why didn't he ever remember Hob-bitch's real name? "She'll be your other boss."

Purple girl smiled…maybe she was putting on a brave face because Tig had just let her know she wouldn't be riding this stallion…what? Again? Really? Where was Ope? Ope stopped stupid shit like that from blooming in Tig's mind. But actually, purple girl didn't seem to be too effected by the "that's my old lady" remark, her smile was real. "So," her smile wanted to get bigger, but she was tentative. "Am I hired, then?"

"Yeah," Tig answered as if she should have gotten that by now…but then he caught another glimpse of Joss up there on the hill, thanking the person in her line for supporting the rescue and telling them all about the map she'd handed them and directed them over to the lunch tent, and she looked so in charge and so confident, she was feeling good about what she was doing…and she was only eighteen…damn! Tig heard himself sigh a little, and he looked back at purple girl, "well, she'll have the final say and all, but I'll put in a good word."

Author's Note: Many thanks to all of you who wished my mom well with her surgery! She's home from the hospital and doing well, despite her many restrictions. Fortunately I was able to find time to write, as she is sleeping a lot. Thanks also to my husband, Med, for understanding that I am needed here, love you, babe!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing as well! I alerted everyone I could with PM's again, because I wasn't sure if the story alerts were working yet. I hope I'll have other chances to write this week, and thank you all for your patience right now! And I hope that SANDPIPER86 is enjoying her cameo as much as the rest of you are! Thanks again, you all are truly what keeps me going and keeps me inspired, particularly at times like these! Best wishes to all of you too! - Grace


	81. Backwards and Forwards

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 81

Lauren had seemed pretty happy, excited even, all day. She was even chipper and bright eyed at five-thirty in the morning when Joss, she, Chucky and Gemma had begun setting up tents and tables. Joss had of course been excited too, but the pull of the dark morning had subdued any real chatter on her part, same for Chucky who plodded diligently along while Gemma sighed and kept her coffee close…but Lauren was positively lit up by something, her dark hair pulled back into a French braid and her face festooned with a simpering grin. Lauren didn't trail ride much, she didn't have time to, and besides, Markus was a dressage horse and trail riding wasn't the best sort of workout for him. Maybe Lauren was just psyched about going out on the trail ride today? Hmmm…but was she really that excited about it? She'd had that quiet, almost not there, but then again, glaringly there, kind of smile on her face for the longest time, and nothing wiped it away…not even the failing two way radios that the girls were currently dealing with as they walked down to the barn together, registration officially closed and all the participants heading back to the their trailers and horses to mount up and head out.

"I'm pretty sure these things aren't long range," Joss said to Lauren as they both walked down to the barn, each one holding a two way radio. It was time to mount up and Lauren was in a rush to get Markus out of the stall she'd put him in with his saddle on, the girth left loose for his comfort as he waited for her, and his bridle and reins around his neck and secured so that he wouldn't step through them and get his long, black legs with four even white socks, tangled. Everything was going fine; there hadn't been any problems…until now, and really, this was no biggie…Lauren was still all smiles…all curious smiles. The plan had been for Lauren to ride out with the group, leading the way while Joss remained at the farm and awaited the return of all the participants, crossing off each of their back numbers from her login/logout sheet as she watched everyone emerge from the upper portion of the woods they'd taken the bottom trail into when they'd left the farm. That way they would be certain that no one had been left behind on the trail. And during the ride, Lauren would have one radio, and Joss the other, and they'd keep in contact; any problems would be immediately reported and then handled…it was a sound plan…until the two way radios began to put forth nothing but static when Joss had asked Opie to help her test their range with her…Ope was only about three hundred yards away when radio communication had failed. Great…Lauren was riding out five miles away…

"I guess we're down to cellphones, then." Lauren answered, her spirits not dampened; she was either really looking forward to this trail ride; or something was up…hmm, what could be up? It was obviously a good thing, which made Joss all the more interested and eager to find out, but her friend wasn't yielding any clues…she only smiled…a lot. "Can I borrow your cell holster?" Lauren asked as they neared the barn, pulling on her riding helmet.

"Sure," Joss replied and immediately bent down, grabbing at the Velcro tab of the cellphone holder that she'd earlier strapped around the shaft of her tall boot, pulling her own phone out of the little pouch it was also Velcro-ed into. Joss could put her phone in her pocket, but Lauren couldn't; it would likely fall out while she was riding. Tig had insisted that Joss always had her phone handy whenever she came over here to ride, or just work with Sam, he always wanted to be sure she'd have her phone close enough to dial him, or 911 if she needed to…there were times that his overprotective instincts paid off, and this was another of them. "I'll get the goats and the chickens, and the other thirty-eight mouths fed while you're gone too." Joss offered, feeling good about things too…not as good as Lauren was obviously feeling…but Joss was happy. She'd more than met her goal for the rescue in registration fees alone!

"Aren't you going?" Tig's voice was a bit of a surprise; Joss had been far too focused on Lauren's mysterious felicity and she hadn't seen Tig standing in the doorway of the barn, looking up at her as she came down the hill, paying attention to every footfall of her tall boots crunching on the gravel, her man's ice, blue eyes beholding her form with such intense fascination, looking at her almost like he'd never seen her before and was just now noticing the way her breeches and "T" shirt clung to the silhouette of her body as her shiny, black and crimson hair fluttered over her shoulders on the wind. Joss smiled back at Tig without having to think to do it; her man looking at her like that just made it happen. His eyes fell to and focused on something now, but something quite unexpected…her wedding ring, handsomely taking up space on her slender, white finger. Joss's smile grew and she even felt herself blush just a touch; to have a man like Tig look at her like that was nearly paranormal…but so was their love…and it was running hard and free. Hmm…what was with everyone today? First Lauren's terminal happiness and now Tig looked a little gaga over his own wife. Oh the days when Joss had hoped and prayed that Tig would cast such a stirred and overcome glance her direction, to have him look at her like she was something too fetching to be left behind. But now, after she shared his last name, there it was? Really? Joss didn't mind, not at all, and she didn't know very much about how relationships were actually supposed to work, but this infatuation stuff should have come a long time before the marriage stuff did, right?

Joss smiled, she couldn't stop…he was something, her man. He was tall and strong, broad chested with striking, arctic blue eyes…on the surface a banged up version of the valiant and chivalrous, romantic men in Jane Austin novels that every girl was supposed to dream of marrying. But Tig didn't love her the way "Mr. Darcy" loved "Elizabeth," he couldn't…he was like "Mr. Darcy" thrown in reverse. Tig, in love, was like some dangerous, flesh-hungry beast wrapped up in electrical shocks, but Joss thrived on every jolt. Tig…he'd helped with the Ride-Athon a lot too, only he likely didn't think he did; but if he hadn't granted her permission to do it, and then put it to the club to be involved and sponsor it, then it wouldn't have gone anywhere or become the success that it was! Her man, inappropriately infatuated as he was, he did so much for her…it surprised everyone…except for Joss.

"I can't go," Joss began to explain, Lauren running ahead of her to get Markus out of the stall as Tig followed Joss to the goat grooming stand; both of them having a seat there, clear of where Lauren would lead Markus out of the stall.

"Why not?" Tig asked, his annoyed tone no less present, but his hand to her shoulder, index finger gently stroking behind her ear.

Joss smiled, leaned into his touch and laughed a little. "I don't have a horse," she replied and laughed a little more when Tig first frowned then looked at her like she was crazy. He understood so very little about horses.

"What about the one I gave you?" He asked as if he was hurt that she'd forgotten, but his hand slid against the back of her neck under the curtain of her long, silky, black hair, his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him…yeah, like he really wanted her to go anywhere?

"Tig," Joss smiled again, this time a little more apologetically. "I haven't been able to work with Sam for a long time now. He's barely sane in the ring; I can't take him out on a trail ride with a million other horses when I don't know how he'll react. I don't want to get anyone, or their horse, hurt, and I don't want Sam hurt either."

Tig was nodding, nodding and looking at her like she'd said the most profound of things, like no one else would have ever thought of such a thing, only her. Wow, he was really impressed with her all of a sudden, and it was hard not to laugh at him being that way. She was really shining in his eyes right now, and she'd done so very little. "I don't want you hurt," Tig said quietly, obviously aware that Lauren was still in the stall with her horse, putting Markus's bridle on from the sounds of things, and Tig leaned over and kissed Joss while the moment of privacy presented itself, but he was quickly lost, his mouth trailing down over her chin to her neck and finding a new, affectionate niche there to be sucked, licked and bit at.

Joss closed her eyes, wanting him to continue, but she could hear Lauren pulling her girth tighter…both she and Markus would be stepping out of the stall any time now and Tig was never going to "open up" what he had with Joss so much as to let something like this be witnessed. "Hey," she whispered and pushed at him gently, Tig reacting with opposite force, growling a little, not wishing to be disturbed, his hold on her becoming ferocious and tight as his teeth closed around the skin he'd been kissing, threatening to bite, hard. He was under that unstoppable spell, and Joss wanted to join him…felt herself dissolving into it as everything that was Tig pushed at her body, demanding to be let in. But Joss made herself fight it off…the dull scrape of steel horseshoes on the cement floor of the barn reminding her again of the sacredness she was trying to honor by keeping it hidden. Tig would understand, once he sat up and looked around…and she'd make sure he had all he wanted of what she couldn't give him now, later. "Tig, stop…come on, baby…let go," she whispered again and pushed at him once more, wriggling out of his hold before he could yank her back to him again.

He sat up away from her with a snarl that quickly subsided as Lauren and Markus came walking past, Tig looking at Joss now and nodding…then staring at her…for no apparent reason, but it did feel good. Joss smiled at him, looking now to Lauren, "need a leg up?" she asked as Lauren lead her tall, black Dutch Bred out of the barn.

"Sure," Lauren answered, still smiling that silly smile…really, what was up with that? "I've kinda gotten used to Juice doing that for me, but he took off on the John Deere before we came down here…all of a sudden he thinks tractors are sexy," Lauren giggled…and giggled…and giggled still…hmm…whatever that smile was, it was about Juice! But really, Juice the tractor driver was kind of funny…Joss could already see him plowing fields in his green and yellow trucker's cap, stained jeans and faded plaid shirt…plodding along on the jerky old farm tractor with a piece of wheat in his mouth…maybe next time Joss saw Juice he'd be standing in front of Lauren's place wearing overalls, holding a pitchfork? But, it was good to see Juice not only supporting what Lauren loved, but getting into it too…hmm…Juice and Lauren were really turning into a couple, like a couple, couple! Joss smiled…she loved them both, and with Juice's enthusiasm for what Lauren loved, and Lauren's giddiness, Joss just bet that they'd be announcing their engagement…soon!

Joss stepped up beside Markus, Lauren standing with a handful of his black mane, lifting her left foot off of the ground, knee bent, waiting for Joss to put her hands under it and push her up into the saddle, but Tig was soon coming between the two girls. "I'll get it," he said as though he'd been giving riders a leg up for ages, and Joss, a bit tickled at how he wanted to help and the effect he was letting her have on him, stood back, letting her man in to take charge. "I gotta start learning some a this shit," he said to both Lauren and Joss as Tig effortlessly lifted Lauren up aboard Markus and then turned to face Joss. "Cuz I sorta hired you girls a barn manager…"


	82. Beauty Routine

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 82

One of the last things I really need to be witness to is Tig making out with Joss…but there they are as I come down the hill towards the barn, she's sitting on the hood of her navy blue Explorer, one knee on either side of Tig's body, his arms around her, neither of their faces visible because they're so…buried…in…in each other…buried…yeah. I'm partially aware that there are footsteps coming up behind me, likely the rest of the club who'd been getting trucks and trailers situated as folks drove in, but everyone's gone now, rode away into the horizon…leaving Juice an opportunity to try and show off some big, old, smelly, green tractor he said he discovered in one of the sheds not too long ago, wants to "restore" it now…but none of us would hang around to listen…we weren't impressed…who in hell rides around on a farm implement wearing a reaper cut? That kinda stuff can damage our image…so we left…with Juice's cut. Clay wanted us all to check in with Joss, make sure there wasn't anything else she needed at the moment, or if we could split for awhile and return to direct traffic when everyone went to pull out of this place.

I'm the first one down here…and this is what I'm greeted by…Tig so into Joss and Joss so into Tig that neither one even noticed me. I want to look away, I really don't need to watch the woman I love in the arms of another man, even if that 'other man' is her rightful husband; it doesn't matter, seeing it happening, seeing her not trying to stop it, seeing her wanting him, cuts me in a place that shouldn't be vulnerable…but it is…it is. I'm standing here bleeding…but it's actually not all that melodramatic…that's always been more Jax's thing. I'm watching Tig and Joss going at it because I'm…because it's…well, it's not…normal. Jesus, what are they doing? It's only like they're making out on the surface, like you know what they're doing when you see it, but when you really start to watch it, it's…it's…well, I've just never seen any two people do it that way before, like it was some kind of wrestling match to the death gone awry. Tig's got a hold on her, his hands clenching both her shoulders so tightly that his knuckles are white, gripping Joss like he's holding her against her will, which unfortunately, he clearly is not. And Joss, she doesn't have her arms around him, her hands are on his chest like she might have to push him off of her…part of me longs to see her do it…but I know she won't…she's really taking whatever Tig's dishing out to her, even though I can see her body tremble as she struggles to keep up with some of it…cuz what Tig's giving her is not gentle, doesn't even look like love, really. Tig looks like he's trying to…eat her, but not in the "dine on her" type of way, but it is like he wants to encompass her, pulling her closer and tighter, kissing her so damn hard Joss can't hold her head up. And then it doesn't matter that she can't, because Tig knocks her back…not leans her back, or lays her back, no, he likes bumps her viciously with his chest and knocks her back against the hood of the truck, Joss's head hitting it with a "thump" but she's not in the least bit distracted, never loses contact with Tig's mouth or body as he lays above her as much as he can with his feet still on the ground. How can that be right? How can it even be okay? How can Joss want that?

"Ooops!" I had completely forgotten that someone was coming behind me, only from the voice I know it's obviously not one of my brothers. It's Verda…Verda? I still can't believe she wants me to call her Verda…there's just too much… mystical whatever about the new doctor for her to be going by her first name…as if that makes any sense. She can't help but watch Tig and Joss too, she's caught in the same strange elements that I was myself, but unlike me, there's no concern in her hunter green eyes. "Come on, I guess we can go sit under the registration tent until…they've found their end." Verda smiles and tilts her head up at me, as amused as if we'd accidentally stumbled upon our pet gerbils hammering one out beneath their cedar shavings.

"Yeah," I say it, but I'm not moving…this is like seeing a car wreck on the side of the road…I can't believe Joss is…doing that…Jesus, they bite each other! They're just necking…and they probably do it this way all the time…but I just saw her teeth holding firmly to Tig's lower lip as he tried to pull away from her…she can't want him that much, can she? So much that she'll hold onto him with her teeth? Why doesn't she just wrap her arms around him, like normal people? Oh…yeah…I forgot…they're not normal people…

Peripherally I can see the wind blowing the russet curls of Verda's hair over her shoulders like little spiral streamers and she looks from Tig and Joss to me. "They're…different, aren't they?" She asks, but she doesn't ask it like she needs someone to explain what she's seeing; she doesn't even say it like it's a bad thing…which is beyond me! Verda's very accepting, will try to find a way to work with anyone and let us all be who we are, I like that about her, but come on…she's gotta see something wrong with…that!

"Different?" I repeat and find that I've finally looked away from the…'dissection in an early 1800's operating theater' type of feel of what Tig is doing to Joss…and what Joss is…damn, how can she want that? "That's got all the tenderness and warmth of watching a snake eat another snake."

Verda's coffee and cream colored hand suddenly flies to her perfect, pink lips and she quiets her laugh, clearly not wanting to disturb Tig and Joss…who are doing something very disturbing. "Come on," she tells me again, smiling widely about what I've said, apparently not as…grossed out as I am. She reaches out and catches my wrist…like she used to do in the hospital when she took my pulse, always remarking on how strong it was…and it is, but it didn't used to be until now. I wasn't planning on going back up to sit under the registration tent with her…I don't really know where I was planning on going…I know I didn't want to stand around and watch Tig and Joss…Christ, I don't even know what that is, but I'm walking with Verda back up to the registration tent, leaving Tig, and Joss behind.

"It would be a very boring world if we were all the same, wouldn't it?" Verda's saying, still kind of smiling a little over my snake comment. She's got a white scarf of some kind of gossamer fabric tied around her head, almost like a very loosely secured doo-rag that lets her reddish curls play around her face and neck, and she's wearing her sea turtle coin earrings…she looks almost like some kind of spiritual guide about to conjure up some peace for me. Other than that, she looks very island still, her beautiful browned butter skin complimented by the bright coral colored top she has on and it suddenly occurs to me that I always take so much notice of her. That's probably not good…it usually isn't…she's no doubt got a husband or a boyfriend that she hasn't bothered to talk about before…hmm…why does that bother me? We reach the registration tent and sit down; Verda's still smiling that gorgeous, pearly smile. "Sometimes, you just have to let snakes be snakes." She tells me, looking at me and no longer down the hill where I can still almost see Tig and Joss…even though I wish I could stop seeing them.

I shake my head though, partly because there's this beautiful, intelligent woman sitting beside me and I'm all caught up in Joss…but not the way I usually am…whoa, she's…very…not normal. "It's just hard to see that and not feel like you should…call for help." I feel like an idiot now that I've said that, and Verda seems to be seconding that when she starts laughing.

"You sound a little bit…shocked." She says and then sits back in her folding chair, crossing one elegant leg over the other. "But not about how 'strange' that looked to you, but more like you just realized what your mother did in order to create you."

Jesus, am I that transparent? No…I'm probably not. Verda's got this way about her that I don't understand, because I've never contended with it before, but it's not a bad thing, she uses whatever her power is for good, not evil. Did I really have to just make her sound like Wonder Woman? Again I shake my head, realizing that Verda's kind of right…I don't understand how Joss could be okay with all of that…I don't know how else to put it. I always saw her in need of some tenderness and gentle touches, handling her delicately and she'd respond in kind…but no, that's not what she is at all. "I just…" I can't even find the words.

But Verda still smiles, but it's a quieter, knowing kind of smile now and she leans over and puts her hand on my arm, steadying me as she looks into my eyes…there's so much earthy green there to be lost in, it would be so easy to be sucked in too. "You're the one who described them both as 'snakes,' that means you do seem them as the same things. A matched set of the same things that go together," her voice is soft, like the easy breeze, chasing away all the things that plagued me. "They are perfect in their own kind of beauty, but no one ever said that 'perfection' or 'beauty' would ever be what you expect it to be. We all have to find our own."

When Verda speaks like that I always feel like I'm in a cathedral or some other sacred building of massive size, high ceilings, detailed adornments and rich colors, the immenseness of such a holy place inspiring such breathtaking silence. I'm silent now, contemplating her words, measuring them against everything that I've ever heard Joss say that managed to somehow climb inside of me, and I'm feeling that Verda is clearing off that shelf that Joss is usually sitting on, making room. We all have to find our own perfect beauty…why does mine have to be three women; one that's gone forever, a second one that I'll never have, and a third one that feels so high and overhead of everything I am. What is she doing here? I hear that question inside my head a lot…she is beauty and perfection…but I'm far from it; why does she repeatedly bother with me?

I hear horses whinny, several of them, their bodies packed against the fence line and their necks craning over the top rail, all calling to someone who was on their way up the hill. I see black hair and I know it's Joss, and I feel myself start to lean forward towards her, calling to her in my own way just like the horses…but some part of me reminds me how rude I'm somehow being to Verda and I sit back. Besides…Tig's likely with Joss, I don't want to see them together anymore…I'm not even sure I can handle the sight of Joss alone.

Verda is as untroubled as ever, smiling at Joss now as she approached. "They all know you," Verda calls cheerfully to Joss and tilts her head the direction of the horses.

"Oh," Joss smiles back and rolls her pretty, green eyes a little. "They're just hungry," she replies modestly, "I could use some help with that, if you're not busy."

Verda seems excited by that and gets to her feet, walking down towards Joss a bit and I'm feeling a little bit abandoned, and it's ridiculous that I do. But come on, does this girl have a thing for me, or not? And Joss…she's still about ten feet away from me, but I can see red marks on her skin; her neck has more than a few teeth marks on it, particularly over her white throat, but they extend clear down her chest, beneath the collar of the gray, lady's reaper "T" shirt she's got on, there are even bite marks down her arms, a smudge of what looked to be darkening into a bruise on her wrist…she doesn't look anything like she's just come from her lover…more like she's been lucky to survive an attack. But as I look at her, all the reddening marks so prominent against her alabaster skin…I can't help but wonder…what does Tig look like? What marks has Joss left on him? She's far from the undead looking waif I encountered in Evermore's cemetery, but still, I can't look at her…

"Oh, I'd love to!" Verda really is happy to be helping to feed horses, but that does sound like something that would please anyone as mystically nurturing as she is. Guess I'm officially on my own up here under the registration tent…might as well head out, I need to lose whatever this new funk is; pushing my bike up to one hundred miles an hour down a few country roads might just detach it. I'm about to stand up as the girls seem about to walk off, but that's when Verda looks back over her shoulder at me and smiles. "Ope, you should come, too!"

"What?" I didn't mean to say it out loud, but it really caught me off guard. I don't know anything about feeding horses, what expertise do I have that would warrant Verda to tell me that I "should" go help?

Joss stops walking, turning around to face me, and amongst all the red welts and impressions of teeth and the mottled discoloration of hard sucked skin, there is that pretty smile, the one that promises so much light, but it all feels like such an illusion now. But she's looking at me, and I look back, but overtop of her head so I don't really have to focus on her…and the imprints of her insane desire for Tig. "Yeah," she says, agreeing with Verda, and then she's saying something else, but her voice is muffled, whatever she's saying, she's saying it to Verda only. "Come on, Ope. All you have to do is fill up a feed bucket and then hang it over the fence for them. Verda and I are only two chicks against thirty-eight empty tummies, after all."

Verda's smile becomes downright enticing, "come on," she almost sighs and beckons to me…I swear I can feel the movement of her arm bringing forth a gentle wind at my back pushing me forward, and I'm walking, down the hill…to feed horses…really?

Joss seems really pleased for some reason…there was a time when I would have hoped her sudden enthusiasm and even asking for my help might mean something, but not now…I can't get there, not even when I do try…Joss is beautiful, Joss is always beautiful…but Verda's right, she's the beautiful and perfect match for Tig…they are the same thing. The three of us are walking down towards the barn, me still wondering what the hell I've got myself into, and then Joss turns to Verda and in a way, she lets me know. "Verda, if you're not busy tomorrow, why don't you come along on the charity run?" Joss's invitation sounds genuine, I want to believe it's something she just thought of…but Joss is so much more logical than that...she had something planned about Verda and the charity run all along…and in no time, before Verda even has to point out that she'd have to follow behind in a car, Joss fills us both in. "You can ride with Ope!"


	83. Run Around

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 83

Being on the back of Tig's bike had long since been one of Joss's favorite things in life. She was completely at his mercy, having to trust him implicitly, her life was totally in his hands…and that was such a fitting metaphor for this life; if a man didn't have his old lady's life completely in his hands, then she wasn't going to last long around here. But Tig was more than capable of handling Joss's safety, and his bike, and she could feel it all in the way he drove. His hand closed over the throttle like it was the taut leash of a straining pit-bull, everything the bike did under Tig's command, every vibration of the "V" twin engine that tickled pleasantly up her thigh, every slight bounce or air cracking click of tires over seams in the asphalt that shook her and pushed her body further against her man was like Tig touching her in ways he never could with his hands. Joss was his, and it never felt more so than when she was on the back of his bike, her patch shining out behind her where everyone could see. But still there was more to it all than just riding with her man. Riding with Tig, and his club, in formation, made Joss feel so much a part of something; she had a family…a family she'd be sharing Tig's charge of one day, and for the first time she began to realize she was excited about it. It was such a strange feeling to have hit at the moment; she'd known for some time that she was SAMCRO's next queen…but there was just too much mind-numbing happiness and shock and self consciousness in the way of being genuinely excited...but finally those things had faded…her arms were wrapped around the waist of SAMCRO's next king, and it made her heart flutter.

The sun was bright and the temperature in the seventies, which when the bike was in motion made it feel more like it was only in the fifties; it was nice to have Tig in front of her, taking the brunt of all the wind and the bright light, Joss's head tucked against his shoulder, ducking the blowback, but smiling. She was where she always belonged. There was something in the air today, something good, blessings to be distributed in some yet unknown form, and Joss wasn't the only one who seemed to feel it. Whenever they slowed or stopped, Tig's head turned over his shoulder a bit, and he'd kiss her forehead softly, leaning back against her with a quiet, little, half satisfied growl until Joss would smile, and then lift her head up and lean forward enough to kiss him quickly, even though they both wanted more...she loved her man, and the way he felt inside of her…today would have been a good day to just stay in bed with him…but, there was the run, her run.

The absence Jax left in the formation surrounded Tig with Clay at point and Bobby who rode beside Tig, but both Clay and Bobby were very close to Joss, so Tig must not have minded displaying a little affection for her around them, even if Hap was back there off Tig's right, but it wasn't like he could really see anything. SAMCRO lead the run, two hundred or so bikes behind them and Joss was looking forward to letting all the other chapters see who she was, just like Gemma had told her before; this was her second chance to establish herself before she even assumed her future throne…this was yet another opportunity to make Gemma proud.

Joss had wanted to be noticed, it was important that everyone know who she was and be able to keep their eyes on her, prompting them to look at her and watch her as she went about the business of being her. So she'd tied a black, chiffon bellydance hip scarf around her waist over her skinny jeans, knotted at the side, four rows of jingling, jangling silver coins dangling across her ass and over her thighs, front and back. Every move she made was filled with the light, tinkling sounds of the coins, like the pleasant rattle of rain on window glass. It was already buying her some attention, for the third or fourth time SAMCRO stopped at a red light Clay looked back towards Tig's bike with a smirking expression saying, "Every time we stop, I keep wondering 'what's that noise?' And then I remember, it's Joss's ass!"

Tig had laughed, so had Joss, and it felt good to know that Tig wasn't offended, that he had no thoughts of kicking Clay's ass for his comment, the boundaries and bonds of this life were such a comfort…but it also made her wonder how Tara was, what situations Jax had already put her in that he had no clue, or want, to direct her through. Tig had promised Tara protection, said he'd get her back to Charming when things got too hot…but Joss couldn't help but wish Tara was here now…although…Verda, the new doctor, was quickly taking up the void that Tara had left behind…but in a much more open minded and confident way. She'd definitely be part of Joss's court…hopefully as Opie's old lady.

As Tig's bike slowed again, halting at a stop sign, Joss turned her head, looking towards the rear or the SAMCRO lines where the non-enlisted brothers rode…it was so strange to think of Ope as being back there at the end of the line, he meant so much to her that just didn't translate into anything within the club, but Joss knew that the day would come when Ope rode to right of Tig, who headed everything. It was difficult to read Ope's expression through the dark lenses of his Harley glasses, but he looked stiff, like he was trying like mad to ignore the two elegant, cinnamon colored hands that wrapped around his waist. Verda's chestnut curls fluttered back behind Ope's helmet as if they were his own…those two really could be one, and Joss hoped and hoped they would be, but she also knew she'd done all she could. It was up to Verda, and Ope, now. Hopefully Ope would relax a little more and actually talk to her at the bonfire tonight; a night at the old camp grounds, cooking outdoors and sleeping in tents just might be the change of scenery Ope needed to make other changes.

Gemma had drove ahead of the pack, arriving at the camp ground first to get food and beer set up and make sure there was enough firewood. The queen rarely rode with her king these days, but both Joss and Tig knew that was because of Clay's hands; trying to keep his bike on the road with only himself was about where Clay's limit was set, and it did no good at all to have the president put his bike down, particularly with his old lady on the back. Joss, feeling a bit sorry that Gemma couldn't be part of the run, had offered to go with her to set up at the camp ground, but Gemma was quick to say no; the queen obviously wanted Joss right where she was now…riding with Tig and letting everyone know why she was special to both Tig and the club. It was important; Gemma had really wanted Joss to distinguish herself tonight…yeah…there was something good about to happen at the bonfire.

Chapter 83; Part 2

Why was Hap zooming around with his ex-wife on the back of his bike? It shouldn't have bothered Tig enough for him to have even taken notice, he and his brothers did shit like that, it was part of being a man, damn it! But Tig did notice…and it was leaving him with some sort of…disdain. Only it wasn't due to any jealousy on Tig's part…he could have told Joss to stay the hell home on this run and then put some other bitch on the back of his bike and beat and fucked the shit out of her all night…but he hadn't. The idea didn't even appeal…and that it had no appeal was sickening…but not as sickening as Slinky-slinky-bitch sitting at home with the baby while Hap was out banging his ex. Shit…what the fuck was with Tig all of a sudden? Joss had filled him up, and he couldn't get her out, that was for sure…he loved that damn girl, couldn't get enough of her, wished he could just peel away from the formation, down some dirt road and kiss Joss hard and heavy, pulling her clothes off, feeling her pale skin against his body as he fucked her, trapping her between the planet under her back and the world he was to her above her. She always touched him like she was worshipping him, right from the beginning, her smooth, soft hands moved over his shoulders, his chest, his big cock with her head bowed, like she was blessed to be chosen by him…Christ…how the hell had he gotten a girl like her? And why was it that the more submissive and adulating Joss became, the more power she gained over him? How the fuck was that right?

That must've been why Tig was so put out by seeing Hap with his ex-wife…Hap wasn't caught up in anything, he was still free, he could do what he wanted with any bitch he wanted to do it with, and he didn't have any regrets. But before Tig could want to be like Hap still, he realized that Hap didn't have Joss…no one else had Joss…she was Tig's sweet, dark, perfect angel…and somehow, that made all the flustered thoughts ease up until they were gone by the time they reached the camp ground. There was a man-made lake there, used to be an old quarry…and Tig was looking very forward to stealing Joss away to its shores…she was his, and what better way to show that than to disappear with her and give it to her so hard and good she was screaming his name?

But that's not how things had played out. Clay had something planned, sending everyone to grab something to eat when they arrived because he was calling everyone to church within the hour. Instead of being able to throw Joss over his shoulder and run for the sanctuary of the trees around the lake, she was over at the picnic tables, securing dinner and beer for her old man. Behind her was Hob-bitch doing the same for Juice…Hob-bitch and Juice were both acting all…squirrelly…like they had some kind of hilarious secret they were keeping as something special between the two of them. Huh, maybe Hob-bitch was knocked up? Juice as a dad would be hilarious…but that probably wasn't it, even though they did always smile when they looked at each other in a way that made everyone envision them running to each other through a meadow of wild flowers, arms outspread…and when they finally met, Hob-bitch picked Juice up and carried him away…yeah…shit…fucking Christ…that's not what Tig looked like with Joss, was it? Hmm…Tig couldn't kiss her without leaving a bruise, broke handcuffs to throw her on her back and fuck the hell out of her, told her to lay deathly still, not to talk or acknowledge him, or even breathe while he pushed her thighs open and crept above her…hmm, probably not. Okay, that was good!

But there was someone new in line behind Hob-bitch…and on the other side of the new girl was Happy's ex…damn it…why'd Hap have to go and do that? Tig had already given Slinky-slinky-bitch a name and everything! Whatever…who was the new chick? And what charter was she with? SAMCRO women got to go first damn it! But the more Tig watched her the more he discovered that the dark skinned, red haired chick was someone he already knew…Chupacabre! Really? Who the hell was she getting food for? She wasn't an old lady!

"I know, okay? So don't say it!" Opie was griping as he walked up beside Tig with some hurry in his step, almost like he'd seen what Tig was looking at and was trying to insert himself into Tig's line of vision towards Chupacabre before Tig realized he was looking at her…only Ope hadn't moved fast enough.

"I didn't say shit!" Tig replied curtly, always pissed whenever he was accused of anything he hadn't done…unless it was something cool, like "I know it was you who cut that stripper's tit off and then stretched it over my head when I was passed out, Trager!" But then that was just a made up scenario…that was still kinda cool, though…hmm…oh, yeah…Ope and Chupacabre. "But what is with that?" Tig asked now, pointing up at the line of old ladies…and one…what was she? Chupacabre wasn't even quite a hangaround yet…but Tig had given her a name…so she was…something.

Ope sighed and shook his head like he'd a very trying day. "She saw what the others were doing and took off before I could explain it to her." He said defensively, but Tig wasn't sure just who Ope was defending, Chupacabre or himself. "Look, she's a nice girl; she's just trying fit in, okay?"

Tig grinned a bit…oh, okay…so that was it…Chupacabre was a "nice girl, trying to fit in"...okay, yeah…Opie was trying Chupacabre on a little…but it was pretty clear that Ope didn't even realize he was interested in the girl as much as he was…and Tig knew all about that! Shit…he and Ope had the damnest things in common!

Tig looked up towards the old ladies…and Chupacabre, piling paper plates with pulled pork, potato salad and chili cornbread; Chupacabre was smiling, talking with Hob-bitch and Joss like they'd always been hanging out together, there were no wrinkles up there at the picnic tables at all. Tig looked back at Ope, who also watched, tensely and nervously. "I don't see anyone having any problems with her being up there," Tig said like he shouldn't have had to point that out…and he kinda shouldn't have had to, but again, Tig knew the kind of denial that Ope was…denying. "Joss is with her, she'll help her out if she needs to."

"Yeah," Ope sighed and he kinda shrank when he did, his big, beefy six foot four inch frame depressing as the air escaped him. Joss was still in there, Ope could still feel her in his blood…Chupacabre was in there too, but right now, Ope was struggling to balance the two of them, and there was no way to do that. One of them had to go, but Tig couldn't just extract Joss from Ope's want like she was a bad tooth…Tig knew what it was to try and balance an unattainable woman with one he didn't even know he wanted, and Tig also knew what Joss was, and when she had a hold on a guy, he wasn't getting out easily, if at all. But Chupacabre…she had something…Tig wasn't sure what it was, but it was there, and it gave him hope. He and Ope would forever have Donna between them; they didn't need Joss too. They'd work a lot better together if Tig's queen wasn't in that equation.

And Joss was on her way over to Tig, with his dinner and her own, smiling up at him as she handed him his plate, but her loving gaze turned sour as Tig overlooked her own plate, that contained one piece of chili cornbread and a scoop of potato salad…that obviously had bacon in it, because Joss was already picking it out and moving it to the side. Her emerald eyes flicked up at him from the black liner and she sighed. "Fine," she muttered and stabbed her white, plastic fork into the mound of pulled pork on Tig's plate, moving it to her own…and Tig laughed.

"What are you doing, little girl?" He asked her, and when Joss only scowled more, Tig laughed harder.

"You're going to make me eat it anyway," she blustered and shook her head in defeat, already moving her fork through the pork like she was trying to make sure it was really dead, Ope distracted from Chupacabre, naturally, and looking on with another sigh.

"God, you two are weird," he rolled his eyes and then walked off towards Chupacabre, taking the plate from her before anyone really noticed that she was bringing it to him, Tig watching and ready to encourage Ope again if need be, but then Tig looked back at Joss, laughing again.

"Joss," Tig reached over and pinched up the bit of meat she'd stolen from his plate, returning it to his own then looked at her, the cute way her dark eyebrows knitted together in her defiance. She was perfect…so perfect…her very first "thing" had been a huge success, but Tig did remember how unacceptable it used to feel that Joss was vegetarian. That had been an awful big blow, once upon a time…long ago, before he'd seen her nearly drop to her knees in tears outside the kill pen at the horse auction, but rise up again and fight for something she believed so strongly in. Tig set his plate down on the table they stood beside, putting both his hands on her shoulders and looking steadily at her…wishing he wasn't about to let this be, but he was. "I get it now, okay?" he told her and glanced briefly at the meat, then leaned down and kissed her quickly, knowing all about her now and not wanting to change a thing; she was perfect.


	84. The Ranks of Heaven

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 84

The last time Clay had held church with so many other SOA chapters present it had been about war, but that wasn't why he was doing it today. And this was apparently family friendly kinda news, old ladies, including Gemma and Joss, welcome to stand on the outer edges of the circle of charters where they could hear what was being discussed. Clay stood on top of a picnic table, his shades flipped up onto his graying head as the sun set around him, and watching it made Tig momentarily melancholy, but there was far too much excited energy pouring off of the old king to let depression sink in too deeply. Something was up, and whatever it was, it seemed that Clay had been waiting to make this announcement for just the right moment.

Clay had opened by talking a bit about SAMCRO's past, and then its future, nothing distinctive mentioned about running guns or dealing ammunition due to the presence of the old ladies who listened in, but it was clear that what built SOA would always be SOA…and then Clay bowed his head down a little, like he was mourning something, saying a prayer for it, and then it was gone, his eyes on all the patches who looked on. Clay stepped to the edge of the table. "A brother has left us," he said and a mix of stumped expressions and confused shock rippled through the crowd, more than a brother or two fearing that there'd been a death in the family, so to speak. But who? There'd been no notices of any passings within their brotherhood. Clay at first seemed a little surprised by the reaction of his brethren but a crooked smile soon appeared on his face that he was trying so hard to force away, almost like he felt badly for letting it appear, and then his light blue eyes flashed with some wicked indignation. "Jackson Teller has deserted us; his family!" Clay's voice resounded like falling timber, startling all into a head nodding silence, all the patches suddenly realizing that Jax was the one Clay spoke of. But how odd their reactions…all these charters had stood here on the brink of somber remembrance, wondering who it was that had fallen…but not a one of them thought of Jax when the word "brother" came from Clay's lips.

Jax's running away seemed to have happened so very long ago now…runaway…that's what Jax had done…Jesus, only teenagers who didn't want to clean their rooms did that shit! But Jax had runaway, and formality was formality…after two fucking weddings, Tig had figured that out! Jax would have to be voted out of SOA with a proper show of hands, but that in no way would make him free. Casting him out would make him a marked man; Jax was AWOL and he'd taken SOA's colors hostage…he was about to formally be declared an enemy of the SOA state. It seemed stupid on the surface, but bylaws were bylaws, and in no time there was nothing but vengefully affirmative votes, Tig's among them, the decision unanimous, but there was no celebratory grunt or hollers…a brother had deserted them…there was no good to be felt in that.

Jax was now officially exiled from the club…he could be shot on sight, no questions would be asked…Gemma…shit, why'd Clay have to bring her in close enough to hear this? Her son was shit; no, he wasn't even good enough to be shit; Jax was just the bad smell! It felt good to no longer have to think of or refer to Jax as "brother," but Tig felt himself try to clench off the sad shock inside him that he sympathetically felt for Gemma, turning towards where he knew Joss stood at the queen's side, knowing his sweet, dark, beautiful angel would understand with just one glance from him that he wanted her to comfort Gemma, to be there for her right now, don't let her stand there alone in the shame Jax had brought down upon his mother….or let her be alone in the grief of losing a son…Joss…that damn girl, she understood that now, Tig knew she did. But Joss had already stepped forward beside the queen, holding Gemma's hand tightly, "mother and daughter," queen and princess, unified as one and looking strong even if Gemma's eyes were closed, unable to watch as the vote was made. But Joss's glittering, green gaze shone back at Tig from within the royal, black shadow of a pharaoh's daughter and she lifted her white chin high as if doing so for Gemma and she gave a subtle nod of her head; everything was okay, Gemma would be fine, and Tig smiled…relieved over Gemma, thrilled about Jax being authoritatively ousted, and so damn proud of that damn girl that he could hardly stand it.

"This of course creates a void at SAMCRO's table," Clay went on to say, Tig paying attention but it was hard to look away from Joss…damn it, why'd she do this to him? She was more accessible than ever before! He'd never day dreamed about that damn girl in years prior, never fantasized extensively about her…but all those things crowded Tig's thoughts now on a daily basis. He'd fucked her the night before and even this morning…but he still felt like it wasn't enough. The more he fucked her the more it felt like he owned her, and Joss was such a fine thing…so perfect…owning her, marrying her, had taken on a new dimension. She looked so good where she was, standing there beside the queen; she was the prettiest girl here…she was the prettiest girl anywhere…but she had a certain sparkle to her in this life; Joss was always meant to be here, in SAMCRO, with him…she'd become part of the club for Tig in a way that didn't need a patch, bringing Joss here had been like reuniting her with her long, lost family. SAMCRO was in that girl's blood, they were one and the same. Joss lived for her old man and his club…she loved them both.

Tig had never imagined there'd be any pride in saying the word "wife" again…but there it stood, five feet, eight inches tall with long, silky, black hair tapering to blood red tails, a body more stunning than any stripper poll would ever know, draped in luscious, pale skin. Joss was beauty and grace and interminable strength and boundless intelligence…she was and would be more than anyone would ever understand…except for the man that owned her…her husband. For the first time he could remember in so long, Tig was more hungry for a girl than he was the sex he had with her…he sometimes caught himself wondering if he'd even had all those extra "Y" chromosomes floating around in his blood until he met her, or if being with her and having her love him had somehow made them bloom and flourish there? It was fucking ridiculous…as were his more than vivid thoughts of stealing Joss away to the lake that were running rampant in his head, lashing her wrist to his own with his belt before he pushed her down into the soft sand and fucked her...he still thought of the night before, how they'd lie in a tangle of legs and arms as they fell asleep, not holding one another so much as trying to keep Tig's big cock buried inside her for as long as was possible, locking her to him in every way he could think of. She was his, loyal to him and his club, wore his patch and took his last name…and it all made him want her more than ever.

Guttural shouts ate up the silence, Tig's brothers bellowing, hands striking his back in congratulatory slaps, Happy's low, booming, "yeah" echoing over all of them…and then something flew downwards, bouncing off Tig's chest, but it was nearly weightless, Tig happening to catch it before it sailed to the ground. "Stitch that on," Clay instructed from upon the picnic table and his tone of voice seemed full of denouement, like Tig had missed more than a handful of some dignified speech…lost in…Joss…but now he held some patch, some slim, white badge that he turned over in his hand…and it read "Vice President."

Vice President? Vice fucking President? Holy shit! Tig knew he was more than full up with Joss, but now this new exultant rush flooded him, combining with everything he felt for Joss, the two crushing one another and merging into some fine, tingling dust that was like a hit of cocaine for every extra "Y" chromosome and more…Vice President…now? He was in no way expecting this! Tig felt himself almost floating, overwhelmed…which made no fucking sense; he was destined to lead this club, he knew that…so why had this little change of badges meant so much? But Tig knew why, looking up at Clay and the king nodded down to him…the word "son" on Tig's cut suddenly had so much impact. It was funny how things worked…first Clay made Joss his "daughter," then the king had married his princess off to Tig…then publicly exiled and disowned the former prince…crowning Tig in his place, in front of all; this was the first of Tig's coronations.

Tig looked down at the badge he held and gave it a reverent nod, looking back up at Clay and doing the same, the two of them holding eye contact for only a second or two, but a whole conversation seemed to take place without words…Clay trusted Tig enough to give him everything, even his "daughter"…and Joss stood there, her beautiful, white skin even paler with the heaviness of such a joyful shock, but she smiled, stood straighter and more stately, the silver coins at her hips jingling as she did…her eyes held Tig's so proudly, and then they looked away from his, averting themselves from his gaze, the ultimate in deference, a downwards glance to reflect how unworthy she was to look something as magnificent as he was in the eye…he was her god…and she was his angel…SOA their heaven.

"And this creates yet another void at SAMCRO's table…" Clay's voice was clear as day now, Tig linked in, but still he stole a glance over his shoulder at Joss, who was tuned into Clay, a tear shimmering at the corner of her eye and it made Tig shudder, but the two of them faced Clay again, listening to him as if with the same ears. Happy would be moving up too, there was no better choice to relieve Tig of that command…that command…Sergeant at Arms…the melancholy returned, but again it was brief. It would be good to see Hap take over there, he should learn the ropes and have everything down by the time Tig came to the throne…Hap would be a good SAA…Tig was…Tig was…SAA…shit…he was Vice President! Vice fucking President! Why did the badge currently sewn to his cut feel like it was growing into his skin?

Clay paced a bit on the picnic table and he seemed a little…apprehensive? Was that it? Shit, no…c'mon Clay…don't be all unsure about this shit…don't start acting like he didn't have faith that Hap was going to be able to uphold the duties of SAA…Tig couldn't move forward if he suspected Clay had any doubts about who he was promoting…it was hard enough to leave SAA behind…it was. Clay's pacing stopped and he looked out at the crowd again. "This was not an easy decision to make, there are many of you out there in 'original' cuts that have come up enough to serve this club," the king was saying and Tig found himself nodding…okay, yeah…that's it, let everyone else down easy before he named Hap…that was good. The new SAA badge appeared in Clay's hand, and Tig felt part of himself want to reach up and take it from him…maybe there was some way he could be the VP and the SAA? No…that was stupid…Jesus Christ…get over it already! Hap could do it; it would be fine, even Clay seemed more settled now. "Being an officer means being even more willing to sacrifice anything for this club, and there's a brother out there who knows and understands that better than anyone else could," and Clay paused, his eyes locked onto somebody, but it wasn't Hap, Hap was standing right behind Tig, and Clay was looking left of him…hmm…what the fuck? There was no one eligible over there except for…wait…no way…Tig's heart pounded, clusters of hope and revisited melancholy rising within him as Clay's fingers flipped the SAA badge forwards, about to hand it off as he leaned forward over the crowd. "Ope," the king said with another reverent nod of his head. "Good to have you stepping up, son."

Author's Note: Wow, 400 hundred reviews! Oh wow! Thank you all so much! You have no idea how unbelievable it is to me that something that I've written, and continue to meander my way through, has garnered such attention! Thank you all so much…I honestly cannot say that enough to you all! My readers, particularly those who review, have helped me and guided me so much into making the entire world of Tijo what it is, and I hope you all feel as proud of yourselves as I know you should! We have all truly built something together that I dearly love! Thank you for being part of its construction!

And speaking of the world of Tijo, the Tijo album that you can visit by going to my profile page and clicking on the photobucket link there, has been updated…but not just updated! The wonderful and gifted ALYKAT4LIFE has completed her latest sketch of Joss at Evermore, and it's so much more than I had visualized! Aly, you are truly amazing and so very gracious! Thank you for creating a world we can actually see and not just envision!


	85. Battlefield Promotion

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 85

A towering fire roared and flickered and music blared, patches and women sitting on straw bales around it if not staggering around with beers in their hands. Every so often the flames would 'woosh' and puff in response to someone's whiskey being poured upon them, their ire stirring up a chorus of grunts and cheers alike, releasing some primal energy that fueled this life itself. Church had adjourned to the usual debauchery that Joss had become accustomed too, walking past women on their knees in front of men as firelight flickered over them, an atmosphere of war drums thumping around her, the power in the air raw and primitive, and it all suited Tig so very well. She was the wife of the SAMCRO vice president…the force of it saturated the night and cracked in the air like the fire itself, and Joss walked tall, a confident sway in her hips, dangling silver coins jingling and jangling, across her thighs and over her ass, orange and yellow flames twinkling over the surface of each coin, inviting glances as she met every stare with poised command, smiling as she refused the handfuls of pills and cigarettes being so graciously thrust at her, accepting only one beer that was cracked open for her as she approached, but not drinking it, offering no explanation. No one there was due one. It had felt a bit cold to adopt such a thought at first, Joss wanted to explain that she just didn't partake of the same recreation as most there did…but Gemma was right…let everyone "see" what she was, don't stoop to the level of telling them. But it had gotten easier and easier to walk past and decline what she was presented, her smile not so tight and tense the more she turned down the generosity of those willing to share with her, thanking them as she moved on, leaving them with the warmest of majestic smiles, promising without words that their benevolence would not be forgotten, but impressing upon them that she did not require such trappings. And she didn't…she had Tig, and he was everything.

And her 'everything' was still right where she had left him; right where Joss hadn't been surprised to see him fade into the moment church had broken up and the fire lit. Her man had separated away from the raging party, sitting in the grass with his back to everyone, just close enough to be able to see by light of the bonfire, but he was locked up inside himself, and no one was getting in right now…except for her. Tig was ecstatic, that was clear…he was always quiet when he was, kept it so very suppressed, all the good and happy emotions only screwed him up inside, were forced down a tunnel with spinning razor blades at the end that morphed them into something that made Tig look aloof and cranky. But Joss was undeterred, she'd grown used to seeing him this way years ago, this had been how she'd figured out that he loved her...hardly ever was he in a good mood when he saw her…but he always came to see her.

"Where ya been?" Tig didn't look up, still working with the tip of his knife to remove the badge that had been to the right of his broad chest since the day she'd met him. The jingle jangle of her hip scarf gave her away; he didn't have to see Joss to know she'd finally returned. The annoyance that was normal for his tone was a bit more amplified now, so many things jumping around inside him that demanded to be celebrated, but Tig didn't do that, too fearful of being happy and feeling good…that had turned on him in so many vicious ways so many times…but this wouldn't…and Joss was dedicated to making him understand that.

"Dense crowd," she replied and smiled only slightly, so proud of him, but not letting it show in her voice, navigating the twisted path that lead to her man carefully, abiding by his rules of inhibition. "It's okay," she smiled gently and sank to her knees slowly, the corseted top with long sheer black sleeves tightening around her ribcage as she did, her breasts plumping forth around the top of it, and she hoped the sight of her cleavage may lessen Tig's twisted, and alarmed, happiness. It wasn't an easy thing for him to feel, but Joss would help him do so. She knelt across from him and set the beer bottle in front of him as she dug in her pocket for the item she'd initially gone after for him. "And here's the seam ripper, too. Just don't lose it; it's Gemma's."

Tig nodded, no gratitude offered just as Joss had expected, but when he looked up at her enough to reach for both the beer and the seam ripper, his eyes lingered at her chest, and she could see there was a bit of tranquility mellowing his demeanor…her man had figured out what Joss had herself…Gemma had brought the seam ripper along with needles and thread because she'd known of the promotions that would be made tonight…had she not supported them, she wouldn't have been so considerate. There was comfort in that.

Tig's arctic blue eyes faded from the fire's light again as he took up the seam ripper and looked down at his cut once more, pulling off the small, clear plastic, safety cap that covered the curved, sharp end of the sewing tool, fitting it onto the back of the blue, plastic handle for safe keeping. The implement looked so small in his strong hands as he held it as though it were a pencil, putting the silver tip of it down to the badge he was removing, but freezing there, silent…but Joss could feel a myriad of things building within him, and then a few escaped, Tig's teeth clenching as he smoldered, his fingers squeezing white around the seam ripper. "How the fuck do you use this?" He bit out, his hand wrapping around it as if he meant to crush it, too much piling up on him from the inside out…happiness and pride were private things…they had no business being expressed here where so many could see them…but they were beginning to implode within him…making him wary and paranoid that somehow, the other shoe had dropped…like the plug was about to be pulled on this dream.

But Joss's serenity was unshakeable and she reached her hand out towards him, stopping it at the invisible boundary line that she knew Tig had extended around himself right now. "Can I see?" she inquired in a soothing tone and waited patiently for him to hand over his cut and the seam ripper. There was a time when she would have been afraid of him when he was so tightly wound and out of control, though…the day he'd come to claim her from Jax's old room, where she lay with her arm, her leg and her foot in casts…she'd never been more certain that Tig had meant to kill her…to be rid of her forever…when it was just the opposite. Again, that had been happiness twisted into something threatening and angry, like some odd autoimmune disease of Tig's emotional senses, always attacking themselves. He meant no harm, she knew that now, he was far too busy and incensed by trying to fight his way through the darkness that he felt closing in on him, trying so desperately to block out any light, despite how badly he wished to see it.

The leather of his cut suddenly crashed at her knees, the seam ripper falling with it, Tig shrugging both onto her and then sitting up stiffly and drawing a ragged, teetering on the edge, kind of breath that Joss could feel not doing the things for him that he'd hoped it would. She didn't dare look up, but took up her man's cut and the seam ripper, easily slipping the tiny, silver spike of it under one of the threads that held the Sergeant at Arms badge to the black leather and cutting it free at the curve of the horseshoe shaped blade, moving onto the next thread. This was a rather tedious process and she wasn't surprised that Tig couldn't deal with it right now. "Beer's getting warm," she reminded him as she pushed a long strand of her black hair behind her ear and continued with her work, hoping he'd drink…he needed something relaxing and familiar at the moment.

Tig's hand grabbed the bottle up so hard and fast that the glass actually rang from the contact of his wedding ring…hmm…no, of his black ring…he didn't need her even thinking words like "wedding ring" right now. He tilted the bottle up to his lips, not putting it down again until it was empty; all of it gone in only a few gulps, but Joss said nothing, knowing Tig would when he was ready. Maybe it was the rush of so much alcohol in so short a moment, but within seconds, he spoke. "Wasn't ready for this shit," he muttered, words more angry than proud as he shook his head as though planning vengeance.

Joss kept to her work, careful of the leather as she took out another stitch. "In some ways you weren't," she agreed softly. "But in others, I think you've been ready for quite awhile."

She expected Tig to fume, and he did, teeth gritting and upper lip curling into a snarl. "Joss!" He spat, as nothing else would come to him at the moment, but she didn't react, just let him curse and say her name in such vanity. He glared at her, don't make him be happy…don't…but no one could make Tig do anything.

The Sergeant at Arms badge was nearly severed from Tig's cut now, only four or five more seams to be nicked, and Joss knew to slow her progress. "Jax defiled this office, it's yours to reinstate. Let this in," she said as if she were talking for herself only and hadn't meant for him to hear her. "This will fit better tomorrow and feel better too." She'd kept her voice hushed and her movements in the open…this was almost like when she'd bought Sam a Jolly Ball to play with in his field; Markus and Skip had their own toys and they were often grabbing the rubber balls in their mouths by the handles and giving them a good, vigorous shake as they ran with them. Joss always felt badly that Sam couldn't join in, finally supplying him with his own, apple scented, basketball size toy, only to have her crazy horse rear up and squeal in fear for his life and tear off away from the Jolly Ball before it had the chance to kill him…just incase it tried to. She'd actually had to remove the Jolly Ball from the field, her goofy long, lean, dapple gray unwilling to walk passed it when he saw it, and instead would stand pinned and cowering into a corner of his field for hours. But she couldn't remove, or not sew on, the vice president patch to Tig's cut…she just had to acclimate him to it.

"How's Ope?" The question surprised her, the gruff tone did not, but when Joss glanced upwards, Tig's gaze was on Opie, who sat on one of the straw bales, stitching on his new badge…with Verda by his side…sitting on the same straw bale…he was letting her in it seemed…good…yeah….good…that's what Joss had wanted…but…but…Joss did love Ope…

"I don't know, I haven't been over there," she responded and made herself look away from Opie and Verda…they could be a couple…soon…it was what Joss had wanted, it was what she'd set into motion…but knowing it was happening…oh God…Joss shook herself a bit, focusing instead on the irony of how it was usually Opie going to Tig and asking "how's Joss," and just now it was Tig who had asked her, "how's Ope?" Ope needed his own space, and Sergeant at Arms fit that bill more than adequately, and he needed his own love too…and that would be Verda…Joss wished…even if having her wishes come true was…as unfortunately disappointing as she'd feared. But what was it she felt? She loved Opie…but…how? It didn't mean what it did with Tig, nor did this hurt rip her apart…but still she felt it…small tinges of…loss. Joss looked up at Tig again, but he was still watching Ope and how he was coping. "Do you want me to go talk to him and find out?" She asked, but prayed her man would say "no."

Tig shook his head, then sighed and leaned back, his hands behind him on the ground and he sighed again, like maybe he was settling down now, something about being reminded that Ope was moving up too was working to release him from the twists of emotions. "Hey," he half grunted in his almost usual annoyance, though Joss knew he was still strung pretty high, "look at me," and Joss did, understanding that this was more Tig telling her it was okay to do so now, that he could bare her eyes on him. "You happy?"

Joss smiled…there was only one stitch attaching Tig's old badge to his cut now. "Very." One word…that's all, don't drown him with adjectives and praise. She slid the slim metal spike beneath the last thread, and waited.

Tig nodded, but his upper lip curled a bit still. "Me too," and he looked upwards at the night sky, like he knew Joss was about to cut the final thread that bound him to his old rank…and while Tig distracted himself, Joss severed it, the Sergeant at Arms badge falling free into her hand just as Tig looked back at her, and his cut. "I didn't think it would…hurt so fucking much to lose this piece of me…"

And Joss found Opie, and Verda, in her gaze…the doctor's slim, brown hand resting comfortable between Ope's muscled shoulders. "I know." But the weight of the badge in her hand brought her back, made her look back at Tig who was still too flustered to notice that she'd looked away. "It's a good thing, remember that." She heard herself saying, but she wasn't sure to whom she was speaking.

Tig looked back at her, his eyes on the badge that she held in her palm…he would want to keep it, she knew he would, it had been who he was for so long…he was a good and fierce SAA…and not thinking of her man as "SAMCRO's SAA" would be difficult for her as well…she mourned this happy transition with Tig…but it was a good thing. He'd put right all the embarrassingly mangled and mutilated associations Jax had garnered with office of vice president…finally SAMCRO would have no dents in their armor. But Tig's SAA patch…it would become a sacred relic, he would want it. Joss took it between her thumb and forefinger, thinking perhaps of having it matted and framed for her man, so lost in those thoughts of comforting him that she hadn't noticed how her hand had crossed into the boundary line Tig still demanded to have respected around himself.

"Don't!" He snarled again and pulled away from her, not even taking the patch. He didn't want to be touched, it was just too much for him right now.

"I know," Joss smiled; her voice gentle and compassionate. She heard all the time how Tig Trager was blackhearted and void of feelings, and every time she did, Joss smiled at how much she knew him and how far he'd let her in. Tig felt everything…everything…on a scale that no one else could imagine…God, she loved him! "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah," and Tig sat forward again, calming himself with a deep breath, but he extended his hand towards her, nodding for her to drop his old badge into his palm, and Joss did, staying strong as her man picked up the old badge, running his strong fingers over it again and again, his eyes fettered to it. It had been years since he'd held it in his hands like that, frayed ends of what looked like ancient threads stuck out all around the long, thin, embroidered tab and Tig stared at every detail. Yes, Joss should have it framed, put it somewhere he could look at it whenever he liked or needed to. She watched as a calmness crept into his features, eliminating the creases in his brow and the hard set of his ice blue eyes…and then Tig's hand, with the badge in it, extended towards her. What was this? Did he want her to sew it back on? "Take this," he said to her almost like he was asking her to. "You love me?"

"I love you," Joss nodded, unsure now what he was doing or feeling or what he even needed, but at the ready to supply it all.

"Then sew that onto the inside of your patch," he instructed and let his old badge fall into her hand, his clear, blue eyes on hers, expression not pained, but intense. "Put my bronze star there too; you keep what's good about me," he spoke like he was lowering a crown upon her head and Joss felt the honor of it all near to bursting inside. "That's what you've always done."

Joss trembled, wanted to wrap her arms around her man and blot the tears at her eyes on his broad shoulder, but Tig still wouldn't be touched…and there were footsteps running towards them, and laughter…the most wild and giddy laughter…Juice and Lauren suddenly appearing, hand in hand…at just the right time.

"Hey, we're really sorry to interrupt, I know you're busy and all," Said Juice, looking first at Tig, then at Joss, but then back at Tig once more. "And congrats, man. It's about time!" He suddenly remembered, but the sentiment in his voice was no less genuine, Lauren nodding her head emphatically at Tig, seconding Juice's words and wishes, but the laughter and the smiles and the joy never left the two of them, Juice looking at Lauren and Lauren at him, then both of them each respectively looking at Tig and Joss, Juice trying to contain his obvious enthusiasm enough to speak. "Look, we're getting married…here…tonight…like, in the next five minutes…and we both really want you two to stand up for us!"


	86. Lifesaver

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 86

What the hell was he standing here for? Juice had all this shit written on four by six note-cards and he'd given them to Tig, asked him to hold them and to sort of follow along with the endless, prissy, sappy, stupid speech Juice was making to his future wife during the ceremony, and he wanted Tig to nudge him and cue him when and if Juice started to stutter or get his lines messed up. But Tig had stopped reading and following along awhile back, completely lost it somewhere around the line "Lauren, you've taught me to see with my heart, and all my heart sees now is you." Aaaaaaa, fucking shit on a stick….it was bad enough Tig had to hear that, he sure as hell wasn't reading it too; it made his God damn skin crawl. So Tig just stood there, glancing down at the cards, moving them around, making it look like he was paying attention while Juice spouted on and on about how Hob-bitch was his "friend and sister and lover"…and…and…llama herder and sandwich artist and pool boy or whatever the fuck…the list went on and on…Hob-bitch apparently represented a lotta shit to Juice…"sister and lover?" What the hell was that? A wedding or fucking "Days of Our Lives?" And what the hell was a 'sandwich artist?' How many things could a pastrami on rye be turned into? What the hell was 'pastrami?' No…wait…it was a funny word, but that one was a real thing! Whatever…these cards and Juice's vows were fucking with Tig big time…Tig was no cue-card boy asshole! Besides…following along with all the gunk and mush that Juice had written down on these note-cards was like reading an eight year old girl's diary…the only things missing were unicorns and mermaids and Hello Pussy…or whatever the fuck that Jap cat's name was…Jesus…why were stupid thoughts like these always meandering around his brain, bumping into other stupid thoughts and combining into really stupid thoughts? Christ…he was like that burned out "Pirates of the Caribbean" guy…Captain Jack Kookaburra…fuck, that wasn't it! Mousetits! No…Mousetits? Now that had to be something Tig made up, that was too fucking weird! Shit…he was like Captain Jack Magpie…

"…and I mean all of that, babe! Because at the end of it all…" Juice was holding both of Hob-bitch's hands and Hob-bitch was looking almost like she was getting bored…really? On her wedding day? That wasn't right? What this wedding needed was a dead raccoon! No…but Juice was being kind of long winded. He'd paused now, but he was only gearing up to go again…but he'd paused in a place that just didn't sound like a pause was planned. Hmm…what was going on? Juice had won Tig's attention back from his ornithological thoughts…huh? Seriously? 'Ornithological' pops right into his mind but "pastrami" and "mousetits" have to go gurgburbling around the long way? What the hell was 'gurgburbling?' Apparently it was a verb…one could stand up and 'gurgburble' to another location…Tig and his brothers could go out 'gurgburbling' later…Jesus fucking Christ! Where was Joss? One look from her usually fixed this…oh yeah, there she was, standing next to Hob-bitch, Joss's beautiful thirty-four double "D's" still popping pleasingly out of the top of that black satin corset top with the see-through black sleeves…damn that thing looked good on her, made Tig want to grab her around her narrow waist and kiss all that swelled above it.

But Tig couldn't grab Joss and pull her close right now, because she was holding fifteen pounds of lit, white candles. Shit…yeah, it was supposed to be pretty and all, but c'mon, there was a whole fucking bonfire a few feet away, what made Juice and Hob-bitch figure candles were going to matter? But they'd each walked up the "aisle" carrying their own huge pillar candle…one a them three wicked bastards…and before Juice and Hob-bitch took their places in front of Bobby, they'd each handed their enormous candles to Joss, who was touted as the "keeper of the lava lamp" or "love light" or some shit, and after Bobby said "man and wife," Juice and Hob-bitch were going to light one smaller candle together and blow out the two Joss was holding, symbolizing their union with a solitary flame…yeah? Sure…fifteen fucking pounds of candles…Tig should marry Joss a third time and have Hob-bitch and Juice stand on the sidelines holding cinderblocks above their heads...yeah, it was for Tijo love…and nail a couple sandwiches to the wall…

And Joss was looking at Tig, her peridot eyes kind of insistent…that damn girl knew him forward and backwards…and sideways…but she hadn't developed the ability to read his mind and was sick of hearing about the gurgburbling sandwiches, was she? She wanted Tig to pay attention, that was clear, Joss looked concerned that he was unaware of what was happening…and okay, yeah…this was her friend's wedding and Tig could understand why Joss would want him to be a little more tuned into things…after all, all he was holding was note-cards, Joss had an armload of flaming wax! Where the hell was Chucky when the girls needed him? Inwardly Tig sighed and resigned himself to paying more attention than he had been but Joss still looked like there was…trouble…like he was the lifeguard and someone needed him to throw them a lifesaver…preserver…the round floaty thing, not candy…and that's when Tig did notice some distress calls. Juice was stuttering…big time, fishing for words, his mind a blank…imagine that…but the little, brown skinned dweeb was standing there going, "Um…uh…" and kept turning to Tig for assistance with a line…but Tig was…gurgburbling…but okay, the kid needed help and this was just the kinda shit that Tig was put here to prevent…only…Tig had no idea where they were with the note-cards, and so Juice shrugged and struck nervously out on his own.

"I…" Juice still held both of Hob-bitch's hands, and she stood there waiting so patiently, wearing the same dress she'd worn at Tig and Joss's second wedding, only there'd been a bit more lace added and her dark brown hair was down, a burgundy, velvet pillbox kind of hat pinned to her head and stylish black netting covering her face. She was a pretty bride…not as pretty as Joss…but yeah, Hob-bitch was some serious wedding tail. Juice was overwhelmed, so into his girl that it was messing him up, making him forget what he'd no doubt been memorizing for weeks…and it was sickening to watch that shit…but Tig still hadn't found his place among the many note-cards yet…Juice was on his own. "I…Lar…I… I would climb any mountain…sail across a stormy sea, if that's what it takes me, baby, to show you how much you mean to me!" Juice was still lost, but at least he sounded like he was in command of what he was saying now…and it sounded good…damn good…and a little bit familiar too….huh…but Juice just kept right on going, paying no attention to the smirk that was slowly creeping into Bobby's expression. "I guess it's just the woman in you that brings out the man in me. I know I can't help myself, you're all in the world to me…" Juice was getting more and more emphatic with his words…and more and more lost…and people were starting to chuckle a little, even Hob-bitch turned to Joss and they both exchanged some kind of "can you believe this?" type of glance, but there was no stopping Juice, he was on some kind of lost roll. "You gotta smile so bright, you shoulda been a candle—"

Oh, now c'mon on! The idiot had lapsed into Motown! Tig had to stop this, reaching out and giving Juice a light slap on the back of the mohawk. "And you're so dumb she should hit you with a sandal!" Laughter erupted and Juice stopped and stuttered again, Tig holding strong…that's what he was here for, damn it! "What the fuck are you doin'? Stick with the script!" He suggested and rolled his eyes…the laughter continuing…and Juice looking dejected and…ashamed…on his wedding day…shit. That was it, Tig pushed his shoulders out and stood straight and menacingly, cutting the crowd with his meanest, corpse fucking glare…and silence reigned.

Juice bit his lower lip but gave Tig a thankful nod, that Tig returned, catching the smile on Joss's face that was all about her old man…oh yeah…first making VP and now this…Tig was getting it good from her tonight…she'd be all over him…good thing he was able to handle that now…handle it, hell…Tig wanted it! The lake…yeah…that's what he'd been thinking about the whole way here, and now it was back…Joss's naked, white skin against the cool sand, hard, pink nipples begging the warmth of his mouth…but someone was talking…asking him for something…Juice.

"Can I see my notes for a sec?" Juice was trying to be subtle in his request, embarrassed to be asking for his notes in front of everyone…but he didn't sound angry, though he really should have been…Tig fucked up, there was no other way of putting it…shit, gotta make that up to the kid.

Tig looked down at the note-cards he held…the stupid, prissy, sappy note-cards…he could hand them over to Juice and let the boy get himself back on track, but Tig had shuffled the cards around so much in pretending to be following along that Juice would likely never find the place where he'd left off. What were cards anyway? Tig didn't have cards to read from either time he married Joss…cards were too…planned. "Know what?" He stepped up more beside Juice, brandishing his handful of note-cards, but instead of handing them over to Juice, Tig heaved them over his head into the bonfire, the crowd gasping and Juice's eyes getting about as big as hubcaps as he turned to Tig, sputtering and stuttering once again, but before Juice could speak, Tig grabbed him by both his muscled shoulders and turned him back around so that he was once more facing Hob-bitch. "Look at that girl, bro." Tig told him, holding Juice in place and stealing a glance at Hob-bitch over her groom's shoulder…Tig was doing this for her too. "Forget about the note-cards, man. She's smart, she's cool, she's beautiful, and she wants to marry you. Why you wasting a moment like this saying all that shit you only think you mean? If you really meant it, you wouldn't have to write it down, cuz you'd never forget it." Tig ignored all the surprised murmurs that surrounded the "altar," he only focused on Juice, holding him steady and pointing him at Hob-bitch…Tig wasn't just going to fix this, he was going to make it be what it should have been from the start. "Look at her," Tig said again. "You look at her and you tell her everything that's gurgb—that's happening inside you right now. Whatever she's making you feel, you say it…cuz that's what she means to you. Ain't no writing it down…you'll both remember it forever."

There was stunned silence around them all now, everyone looking on and pondering the simple truth of Tig's words heavily, but Tig didn't care about them right now, he cared about Juice and hoped that he'd talked him up enough to get him to spit something good out that didn't rhyme. And after clearing his throat and blinking excessively, Juice started speaking to Hob-bitch again, his first words a clear and true "I love you," and Tig let go of him, the idiot had it from here, Tig could feel it, taking a quick look at the tears that were brimming in Hob-bitch's eyes but pulled away by Joss's touched and proud expression, near to tears herself…but she was the only one who wasn't surprised…she knew her old man forwards, backwards…and sideways…and this was how he'd chosen to open up what Joss and he had a little bit more.


	87. Signs and Signals

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 87

The autumn morning sky was still dark when Joss's cell phone alarm began to chirp beneath her pillow. It felt like a cold morning for California that wouldn't warm up until the sun rose, but that was still a good hour and a half away. Tig was still asleep, dead to the world, and Joss smiled; his big body was wrapped around hers, his hand still between her legs, fingers fitted softly into the cleft of her labia, nearly grafted into the soft moistness of her battered pink skin, but there was no pain…at least if not for lamenting that she had to get out of bed, that she couldn't push downwards and rub her body against Tig's buried hand enough to wake him and let him know she wanted him again…and she did want him again…it was impossible not to want him again. They'd reached that point physically where they'd had so much sex that Joss's body had conformed exactly to Tig's thick, eight inch dimensions, she was tailor made and custom built…and that felt so so good, so amazing…for both of them. But the physical part was only the beginning. Something was changing between her and Tig, in a good way, like they were…hmm, growing up? No, not really, but something was trying to solidify and get stronger between them, whatever it was that held them together was on its way to becoming less and less permeable, and any time anything changed between them or grew, it attracted one to the other like a pair of sex addicts. But it was more than just the sex…it was Tig himself…he was the same Tig she'd always known, the same big, strong, male body, not brazenly chiseled like Happy or Juice, or Opie…but Tig physically outshone all of them in Joss's eyes…and he felt like he was ten times stronger than the rest too. There were plenty of women who would disagree with her, but Tig was the most beautiful man Joss had ever seen…and she'd seen a lot of men…but Tig…wow…lately, he was becoming something that she couldn't keep her hands off of…which wasn't all that odd…what was odd was that Tig seemed to be into it now, wrapping around her as much as Joss wanted to cling to him.

In fact, it was impossible to let go of each other, Tig snugged up closer and closer to her as they fell asleep each night, and he could like…locate her body and where she was even when his eyes were closed and he wasn't conscious…if she moved away or rolled apart from him, he was there again, up against her in no time, practically chasing her across the bed at times…which was sort of…cute…but it did have its down sides, because if Joss rolled away, and Tig closed the distance, it prevented her from being able to roll back where she was before…she woke up one morning teetering on the edge of their bed, her arm across her night table…and Tig was right up against her, his broad, hairy chest to her back and the hold of his arms all that saved her from hitting the floor. He was protecting her…from everything…even in his sleep. This new bond that was coming of age between them was like a last piece of their puzzle trying desperately to be allowed to fit in, and no matter how much like sex it looked and felt like, Joss knew it was more, and that it would make them more too…as soon as it finally did slide into place…but it was hung up on something still…trapping them both in this lust they had for each other.

But, it would have been such a waste to ignore what this new development was calling for physically! Joss would have blamed Tig's hyper-masculine chromosomal arrangement, and it may still have been a big part of why…well…of why her man had said he wanted to feel her pussy all night; that he couldn't get enough of it. He'd sure fucked her like he couldn't, and he had been since after Lauren and Juice's wedding, copious and endless clingy, hard, rough sex relished with the most intense need, want and love. But that wasn't all "Y" chromosomes, because Joss only had "X's" and she was just as into her man and sex as he was. But the more Joss thought about it, the more she began to realize at least part of what was going on and why, and it made her feel wonderful and so fortunate. Opening up what she and Tig shared to the outside world had an unexpected consequence…it had made she and her man even closer than they had been before…and being together, whether it was only a conversation over dinner, or having Tig as deeply within her as he could go, it felt a hundred times more…real…'real' like having moved up to an HD TV! It was a stupid analogy, but it was true…she and Tig were connecting on a level they'd never attained before…and it felt like heaven…even if heaven still had some completions to be made…just as soon as that final puzzle piece found its place.

Heaven…it was so hard to leave heaven! She turned her head back as much as she could, able to see part of Tig's big, reaper tattooed shoulder and some of his wild, dark hair only, but still she smiled…he was something…so much more than he was given credit for being…but that was likely to be changing soon. His cut hung over the back of the chair in the corner, new vice president badge shining white and vibrant against the other more seasoned strips of words that had been with Tig since the beginning. He'd be a great VP, he was ready for this, and the pride and faith and trust Joss had in her man hadn't died down yet, not at all…God, how she wanted to stay in bed with him! But no…

Joss had tucked her phone under her pillow before going to sleep; she knew she'd be getting up earlier than Tig usually did and the last thing she wanted to do was disturb him…he was tired…he had to be from the night before…so was she, but like it or not, there were thirty-nine horse awaiting her arrival to dole out the grain. Lauren and Juice were still on their honeymoon in Hawaii…hmm…once again Joss looked over her shoulder at her slumbering man…why didn't she and Tig get a honeymoon? Fat chance of getting one now since Tig was the new vice president! Not that it mattered all that much, Tig wasn't really a "let's take a trip, just the two of us" kind of guy…still, it would have been nice, two or three days to do nothing but lay in bed with him and know they didn't have to get up and get dressed unless they wanted to. Honeymoon…Joss sighed…how stupid was it to be feeling cheated out of a honeymoon when technically, she'd never even been on an actual date with Tig to start with? Oh well, there were some things that just didn't happen in this life. She loved Tig and she'd always be with him…but it would have been nice to—oh, this was just more of her whining about not wanting to get out of bed with him, wasn't it?

But, she had to and Joss knew she would. Honeymoons and dates didn't matter anyway, she and Tig had something that no other married couple even understood! Besides, those thirty-nine mouths at Lauren's didn't understand, or care, that Tig never took her to get pizza and play miniature golf...Tig playing miniature golf…hmm, no don't laugh, she'd wake him for sure. Come on, out of bed, there was a lot to be done today, plus, the new barn manager…that Tig had hired…started today, and Joss was eager, and kind of scared, to meet her and see how well she'd fit in. It would be difficult to do without Lauren there, but it still had to be done. After all of Lauren's fears and apprehensions the morning she'd woke up to find thirty-nine horses on her property, the best wedding gift that Joss could give her would be having the entire rescue up and running smoothly with everything in place from feeding schedules, fence building and barn manager all working in harmony. And Joss was going to do it, too! The earlier she started today the better chance she had of being home in time to make dinner and eat with Tig…hmm…maybe they could even go out for dinner? Oh sure…Joss rolled her eyes at herself…yeah…get over it, already!

Chapter 87; Part 2

"You hired our barn manager?" Joss remembered the very wooden way she'd asked Tig that question right after he'd casually mentioned that he'd done so, treading so lightly around it, he'd done a good thing…sort of…he was trying to be involved…only Tig never just dipped his toes into anything, it was all or nothing…and up and hiring a barn manager, when he barely knew anything about horses…or barns for that matter, was certainly a pretty big "all in!"

"Yeah," Tig had nodded like it was no big thing, not overly proud and not even the least bit nervous. To him it was simple; the horse rescue needed a barn manager, Joss and Lauren were busy with registrations, so Tig hired a barn manager…what was the problem? God, Joss loved her man, but there were times when his logic cut ridiculously close to "well, we lost the remote, so we just have to watch TV forever."

There hadn't been much to say then, what was done was done, and neither Joss nor Lauren could overturn Tig's decision. He'd hired them a barn manager…well, okay. "What's this person's name?" That was best starting place there was anymore…that and hoping that Tig had hired someone who knew more about the job than he did himself.

But no immediate answer came…Lauren had started to go pale, but Joss stayed strong, so not surprised to see Tig's brow creasing and his eyes moving like he was trying look into his own brain and find the name he'd shoved back within the confines. "Purple girl," he finally answered…and that was that. But "purple girl?" What? Had Tig hired a "one eyed, one horned, flying…people eater?"

However, now that name made perfect sense to Joss; Hayley…the new barn manager's real name, did have a really cool balayage kind of fuscia-purple thing going on in her dark blond hair…hmm, Joss was really attached to her red tips, but wow…purple…no, Tig wouldn't like it, he was more attached to the crimson red in her black hair than Joss was. But, Hayley was proving to have everything together, she had lots of experience and wasn't afraid of much in the horse world. And her English accent made her sound all that much more in control of things, and that's just what Joss wanted anyone who contacted the rescue to be left with a sense of…the rescue could handle anything. And with the chick Tig had hired, they very likely could too! Hayley had been running barns since she was twelve years old and she had horses too…that she'd rescued from various auctions! Joss was already gearing things up in her mind to have Haley move her two mares, Ellie and Milly, from where they were currently boarded to Lauren's…it would make more sense; Hayley would be able to see her own horses every day she came to work and Joss and Lauren both knew how important that was. And once Lauren met Hayley, she wouldn't mind; Hayley was obviously here to work and be part of something bigger than she was. She asked so many great questions, even gave Joss a line on who to call to build the most cost effective fences the fastest and she looked over the rescued herd of horses Tig had…gotten…from the meat man with a sympathetic, yet powerful eye that promised how much helping horses meant to her. Wow…Tig did good!

"So, I think I've shown you everything," Joss said as she and Hayley headed back towards the barn. Joss was encouraged, but startled at the same time, to find Hayley already waiting outside the barn when she'd arrived this morning. And Hayley had helped to grain the horses, and then Joss's "interview" had begun…she had to know what she was dealing with, but Hayley had quickly proven to be a keeper and so for the last two hours, Joss had been walking her all over Lauren's farm, showing her where everything was and how to get along with it all, even pointing out the seven acres the girls were in the process of buying, and Hayley was picking everything up instantly. "There's really just one rule here, and that's if you have a question, ask it. In fact, if you even think you have a question, also ask it! We'll never be angry because you did; truth is we're kind of figuring this out ourselves too."

Hayley nodded and smiled. "We'll get it proper," she said warmly and Joss smiled at hearing her say the word "we." Great! Tig had hired a barn manager with the exact experience the rescue needed, who was also a team player! Plus, Joss liked Hayley, she was lively and open minded and despite how together she was, she was still funky enough to have purple hair! "So, if you don't mind my asking, which is your horse?"

Again Joss smiled…once she had Hayley set up and working, she was going to attempt to get up on Sam again…and it would likely end with some new bruises, but it had to be done. "Down here," and she walked Hayley to the smaller of the only two paddocks where Marcus, Skip and the dapple gray maniac all grazed. "Hey Sam!" Joss called to her horse, hoping he'd come over to the fence and be sociable. Sam's ears twitched in acknowledgement of her voice, but his head never came up from the grass he was eating, he only snorted and swished his tail in annoyance, then turned his big, gray rump in Joss's direction like, "I no come to you! Talk to butt!" Joss shook her head, but giggled a little as she looked to Hayley and pointed out Sam. "That's him," she sighed, "he doesn't do anything I want him to, but I like to think he loves me, anyway." She laughed and so did Hayley.

"Oh, but you do grow to take the easy ones for granted," pointed out Hayley…and Joss nodded, keeping her smile, but yeah…Hayley was right…no Hawaii, no Putt-Putt golf, but everything else with Tig was off the charts! Still…was dinner and a movie that difficult to pull off just every once and awhile? Maybe it didn't even have to be that formal…oh, forget it, Tig would never go for it and besides, Joss didn't even really want it that much, it was hard to miss something she'd never had…Tig was what she missed, and that's probably where all these stupid ideas were coming from. Gemma's words from not too long ago, right there in the barn Joss and Hayley were heading to, echoed now: "you have to learn to live as much outside of what you have with Tig as you live within it…you don't have any kind of plan for getting through…alone." But Joss was doing that! This horse rescue, it was her plan and it was a good one…better than the modeling thing that Tig had been so in the middle of that it was getting impossible to continue with. But the horse rescue…yeah, that was solid and it was very Joss! And it was also real now; the big, professionally designed sign that said "Redwood Original Horse Rescue" was even up now by the road, at the end of Lauren's long driveway. Joss had everything she was supposed to have now, with Tig and without him! But still some part of her kept thinking about dating Tig…her own husband…thoughts of flying off to some tropical get-away, swaying in hammocks, getting couple's massages on the beach filling her head…and even Joss hated that kind of shit…but she was longing for some space in time that would only be her and her man. Damn it, Joss felt like she was moving backwards in spite of the forward appearance of her progress. She knew she wasn't pregnant again, that was really impossible now, but still…she was holding onto the time she had with Tig with both hands, and that was countering this new bond that was trying to form between them.

The sound of Markus grunting at Sam and impressing upon him that he should move over to let the big, black horse graze in the same area awoke Joss from her latest emotional spiral. Now wasn't the time to be contemplating her sudden need to have time set aside that was only about her and Tig. This was Hayley's orientation day…hmm…what hadn't she mentioned that was good to know? Sam…geeze, there was a whole book on Sam…but might as well get into some of the minor particulars. "Lauren and I don't turn horses out with halters on," she said to Hayley. "We realize that we may have a few fellas over there in the quarantine pen that will be hard to catch, so we might have to turn them out with halters on until they warm up to us, but just don't turn out any haltered horses with Sam, not ever," Joss cautioned and then looked back at her tall, lean, gray goof. "Lauren left a halter on one of the goats once and it wandered into Sam's paddock," Joss explained, but sighed and shook her head, still glad that this was a funny story to tell and not a sad one that ended with a dead goat. "Sam grabbed hold of the goat's halter and ran all around the field with him, sorta like a jogger that goes out for a run with their dog on a leash."

Hayley laughed and nodded her head. "Very good, duly noted," she affirmed and then she turned away from Sam's paddock, looking off towards the riding arena and cocking her head a bit at it. Joss smiled, it was a nice big outdoor ring, about twice the size that most barns had and Joss herself had always been impressed with Lauren's ring too; there was more than enough room in it to set up a decent jumping course. Hayley was probably anxious to get in there and ride too. But then she pointed towards something, another good question on her lips. "So, then you generally allow your yak to run about openly?"

What? Did Hayley just say "yak?" Like the big, shaggie bovine animal that carried gear and supplies up Mount Everest for sherpas and climbers? A yak? Oh no…Hayley seemed to be such a great fit for the barn manager position, but clearly Tig had been drawn to her because she was as out of touch and crazy as he was…she was seeing yaks! Joss turned towards Hayley, wondering how to break it to her that there were no yaks at the rescue, not penned up, or running "openly," but when Joss turned, there was an underweight, disheveled and bushy haired, black yak standing up by the riding ring, looking down the slight hill at both her and Hayley with a docile, underwhelmed expression, bits of grass dangling beneath it's big, wet, black nose. Oh shit! Yes, the new, professionally designed sign was up…and people were dumping animals at the rescue! Lauren was going to flip out!

Author's Note: Wow, reading all of your reviews for the chapter before this one had me laughing so much! Thank you guys so much! I really love it when I can give my readers something that makes them feel good! Thank all of you for reading, and for reviewing of course, but mostly, thank you for sharing the laughter you felt with me! That's tremendously kind of you!

Also, the Tijo album is once again updated (today) with a few more pics and it's still accessible via the photobucket link on my profile page.

And…to start off the holiday weekend, check the "Tig" or "Opie" section of SOA fic at ffnet tomorrow (Friday, 7/1/11) for a sneak-peak/first chapter of what will be the third story in the Tijo collection! (I will finish "Three Princes," don't worry!) The third story will be called "The Dark Ages" and it too will have its very own photobucket album that will be available for viewing, and linked through my profile page on Friday July 1st. "The Dark Ages" is going to be unlike any other SOA story you've likely ever read and I am so eager to hear what you think of the idea and what you expect from it! I am so excited to be sharing a third story with you, and I really must thank all of you who read and review for making it possible to begin with! So, thank you, you all help and inspire me in ways you could never know! You all are truly awesome! - Grace


	88. Linedrive Foul

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work. _

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 88

Feels like Joss has been showing up here an awful lot lately. It's only been for the last three days or so, but she meets Tig for lunch all dressed in her horse gear, and then if she's done with all her work with the animals at the rescue farm, she returns again, showered and changed and just sort of hangs around until Tig's day is over and the they follow each other home. There's nothing wrong with it, everyone around here always likes to see Joss, me included; she's not getting in the way or holding up progress at the garage and Tig doesn't seem to mind. But she never used to do it before, and I can't help but wonder about it…more than I should.

She's standing just inside the bay where Tig's working to finish up with the new strut and tie rod that he put on the Corolla that's on the lift. Joss is watching her old man, seems a little too interested in what he's doing and how close to done he is, though she's hiding it well…that and Tig's distracted, but he's being pleasant to her, maybe not quick with an answer for everything Joss says or asks, but he's paying attention and not getting pissed off or complaining about her being so chatty. There's two truck tires stacked off the side of where Tig's standing under the Toyota and Joss grabbed two or three paper towels, put them over the tires and is sitting there, her eyes glued to Tig. She looks nice and I guess she's trying to stay that way, doesn't want any tire smudge on her jeans. She's done with work at the farm today, her hair's all nice and shiny and silky looking like she just washed it, and she's kind of wearing it up a little bit, the sides are pulled away from her face and pinned back with a barrette. I've never seen her do that with her hair before, it looks nice, really shows off her pretty face. She's got her best pair of faded, tight jeans on with a heather gray "T" shirt that is hanging off of one of her shoulders, loose and bulky at the top but tapered and fits closely around her tiny waist. She's got on black boots with a skinny little heal and pointed toes. Long, sparkling earrings, black crystals, cascade almost down to her shoulders. She's more dressed up than she usually is, but she's not dressed like she is when she comes to club parties…she looks almost like she and Tig are maybe going somewhere special when he gets off work. Dinner maybe? But if they are going, Tig must be going home to change first; all he's got is that garage smock over a dingy wife beater. He also doesn't seem to be acknowledging it if they are heading out somewhere later, he's not saying the usual kind of "I'll be finished up and then we can go" kinda stuff you'd say to let a lady know you're trying not to keep her waiting. And Joss doesn't look surprised by it or even impatient…just…hopeful.

I shouldn't be listening in, but really I'm not trying to; I was over here sorting out about three month's worth of spark plugs for the recycling place that takes them and the bins for it just happen to be a few feet away from where Tig's working and Joss is sitting. I can hear everything and even though I still can't get the alarming image of the two of them…necking…out of my mind, I still can't help but be…into Joss…hmm…'into'…I'll just leave it at that…I wish. I'd never say this out loud to anyone, but sometimes I feel like stepping into Tig's shoes as the SAA has kinda given me some sort of…ESP connection with Joss…yeah, that's a really stupid thought to have, and I deserve to be ridiculed for having it too, but I'm really getting a vibe from her; she's just dying for Tig to say or do something for her that even she knows is nowhere in his mind. I'm beginning to get the impression that she's hoping Tig's going to remember some kind of anniversary and suggest a celebration that isn't like what I already saw them…doing to each other that day at the farm. I'm curious to see if that's really what it is, and if it is, if Tig will come through the way Joss is really wanting him to. I'm feeling anxious for Joss too; she's not married to a "wine and dine" kind of guy.

"So," Joss glances down when she starts to speak and I know from having scrutinized this conversation long enough now that she's about to ask Tig a question and try to hide her eyes from him when she does…not that she has to, Tig's busy. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

Both Tig's hands are above his head, pliers clanking around the new tie rod he installed, but he still manages to shrug. "Whatever," he replies, eyes focused on his work, but he's not brushing her off…he's just…Tig.

Joss looks up momentarily, nods and then looks down again. "Well, there's some leftovers, but if you wanted to we could always go some plac—"

"Can you hand me that cotter pin, baby?" Tig's still looking up at what he's working on, not cutting Joss off deliberately, but he's not actually listening either, he's all about the tie rod and strut. Joss sort of sighs quietly but begins to search the mobile tray that Tig's been using as a work bench, Tig able to tell she has no idea what she's looking for. "Right there next to the bolts, angel. Looks like a greasy, silver bobby pin that's all fucked up."

Joss wastes no time getting to her feet as she picks up the cotter pin Tig asked for and she hands it to him with a strong smile…too strong a smile…she's not crushed, but she's definitely disappointed, but she's carrying it well, because I can tell she knew how that subtle plea for a night out was going to—

"Opie?" My ears were so slanted towards Joss and Tig that I guess I didn't hear Verda the first or second time she said my name, but she's standing there in front of me with her usual sweet smile full of perfect, white teeth.

"Yeah," I feel myself sort of jump to attention and I'm feeling badly about how long she's been standing there. "Sorry, it's just end of the day, everybody's got tunnel vision, you know?" I laugh it off, but really it wasn't my vision that had me ignoring her. She really is a nice girl, attractive, smart, genuine, sincerely means what she says to people and wants what's best for them. As inappropriate as I know it was for her to be sitting there next to me at the bonfire, helping me to sew on my new SAA badge, I can't really say I'm sorry for her company that night. I was half way through sewing on that badge, the shock of being awarded it had my head so far up my ass that I actually said, "wow, Donna, that was my wife, she would have really hated this!" I couldn't help it though, it just kind of came out…and I felt horrible the moment it did, but Verda didn't get angry or discouraged or…or…or any of the things I was expecting she'd get, and that was good, because I didn't mean to piss her off or hurt or discourage her…I think…I mean, I don't know if I'm exactly encouraging her either…but…okay, I don't want to get into that rat's nest! Anyway, Verda just got all compassionate when I mentioned Donna and how the last thing she'd have been was proud of me, but she didn't attack Donna, and I was really surprised. She said she couldn't even imagine how hard it was for Donna to know how much I put myself on the line for this club and talked about how fear of losing someone you love can quickly overshadow the love for the common good. Verda talked about how rare it was that anyone ever found someone they'd give up what they loved for, but in turn, that 'someone' would also never ask them to. I was so blown away, first by being named SAA and then by Verda's kind wisdom…my hands were shaking while I was sewing, I really did need someone to ground me, but be proud of me at the same time, and Verda was right there in every way I needed her to be…or how I'd have needed anyone to be…whatever…inappropriate…shit, I took her number that night and I know I gave her the impression that I was going to call her…I think somewhere along the lines I believed I was myself too…but who knows…I haven't called her yet…and I don't even know why. That's probably why she's here, it's been five days, she's running female recon; what am I doing, am I some kind of player, is there someone else…yeah, that's a good one!

"Oh! If you're closing, I'm really glad I came when I did, then!" Again Verda smiles and again she sounds genuine. If this is how she sneaks around after a guy, she's really not doing it right. I should be feeling sort of "found out" right now and be scrambling to get a buddy to call me away for some alleged emergency or vouch for why I've been so busy lately, but I don't feel like I need to be doing that at all. Plus, she's not dressed in anything overtly sexy that's supposed to make me see what I've been missing. But that's not to say she doesn't look good, she looks amazing, like a real lady; khaki, knee length pencil skirt with a faint plaid pattern to it and she's got a cranberry colored trench coat on over it, tied tightly around her narrow waist and stopping at her hips…I really like how that color looks with her dark green eyes…and I'm probably staring too much and too hard, but if I am, Verda's not calling me on it, continuing with what she was saying. "I was wondering if I could drop off, or make an appointment for my car. I think it's leaking transmission fluid."

"Hmm," I feel my brow crease and I'm all diagnostic like I'm wearing a white lab coat or something. "You been finding puddles of reddish fluid where you park it?"

"Yeah, all the time." She affirms, nodding her head and she looks like we're both doctors deciding on the appropriateness of surgery. "It started yesterday. I've been topping fluids off before I drive it anywhere just to be safe."

"That's good," I'm nodding, my fingers are kind of stroking through my beard like I'm doctor super-mechanic, but really Verda's got this figured out pretty good, definitely a lot better than the average woman who drops her vehicle off here, telling us it's "making a sound like ''" or whatever other nonsense. "Is it grinding when it shifts up or down? Kind of jumping and lunging when you stop and go, too?"

Verda's nodding quicker now. "Yeah," she says. "That's why I brought it in; having to top off before I drive is one thing, but feeling like my vehicle is trying to buck me off like a rodeo bronco is quite another."

"Yeah, sounds like you got a tranny leak," I hear myself groan in confirmation…almost like it were my vehicle and not hers. "Gemma's still in the office, you'll want to see her, leave the keys and fill out a short form with her." Oh hell, did I really just say that? What's wrong with me? I should have offered to walk her over to the office! Jesus, first I mention my dead wife, now I'm shoving her off like some common…customer. "I'll get to it tomorrow, personally, I promise you that." There…I hope that makes up for my crassness.

Verda smiles again, but this isn't her usual "hello, random individual, I wish you well" smile. "Thank you, Ope!" Yeah, I guess I did make up for it…and I will fix that leak tomorrow, I know I will…that's much easier to do than calling her is…damn it…yeah, that's why I didn't call her…cuz I'm a pussy. If she wasn't Verda and I wasn't Opie, she'd be on her way over to the office to make arrangements with Gemma just like I suggested, but we both are who we both are and so we're both standing here, lingering smiles on our faces that neither one of us really knows what to do with or how to erase. "So," Verda's uncomfortable, she realizes the awkwardness of this and she crosses her slim, graceful arms over her chest. "This is where you work?" and she kind of looks around the garage like she's trying to experience my world, but in a good way.

"Yeah, this is Teller-Morrow," I answer and turn a little with a wave of my arm…like I'm some kind of dumbass tour guide now…but then I make everything more weird and awkward than it already was. "I'm allowed to have visitors at work sometimes," I hear myself saying, and I know I don't mean this in the fifth grade way I'm making it sound…shit, it always feels like I have trouble saying what I mean to Verda! I was just thinking about how Joss has been meeting Tig for lunch for the past three days and that maybe Verda and I could…oh hell, I don't know…wait, am I 'nervous?' "So, you can…come up and…see me sometime."

Something twinkles in Verda's hunter green eyes before her expression becomes this thing of pure joy, like she's watching a kitten pouncing on a ball of yarn. "Okay," she laughs, but not condescendingly, she's not laughing at me and I don't really feel like she is, but she is laughing at…whatever made me say that the way I did. She uncrosses her arms now and stops laughing but she's looking at me like she understands something that I still don't, but her eyes are promising me that it's okay, that she'll keep it all safe until I do. "I guess I'll…go to the office and set things up then." Her smile is still so soft and real and it makes me smile too. "Bye for now, I hope you have a good evening, and thank you again, Opie. I really do appreciate it!"

"No problem," I smile back to her and things feel pretty good between us as she walks away, but they also feel kind of…incomplete…and I'm not the only one who noticed that either. I know Joss is looking at me, I know she's been listening in the same way I've been listening in to her and Tig…what the hell are she and I doing spying on each other now?

"Hey," Joss says to Tig, but I know she's looking at me; at least she is until Tig's eyes move from the tie rod to her. "Can I go talk to Ope outside for a sec?"

Tig doesn't answer right away, peripherally I can see him looking at me and then looking back at Joss. "What for? He's right there." He can't think there's anything immoral in Joss's request, can he? Come on, like she's going to ask her old man's permission to go outside and stick her hand down my pants or something? Shit…why'd I have to go there?

Joss nods her head and laughs a little up at Tig. "Yes, and you're right here," she points out to him and that's actually when I feel a shivery cold come over me…like when I was a kid in second grade and Jax did some stupid shit that got us both sent to the principal's office…whatever Joss wants to talk to me outside about, it's not good. Tig looks a little resistant, but he's obviously thinking exactly what I was about how Joss wouldn't ask permission to go do something she shouldn't…besides, she's Joss…everyone knows that girl's blind to everything with a dick besides Tig…I know that better than anyone else. "It's okay," she smiles up at Tig and moves closer to him, she can tell he's softening and she's working that to her advantage, putting her hands on his chest and nuzzling up to him in a way Tig would never have responded to for any other girl. "I love you," she sort of coos…and then kisses him…but it's not one of those "take big bites of each other" kisses that I was witness to before.

Tig doesn't really move or lean close to her or anything, not until Joss starts to pull away from him that is, like he needed all that time to think about whether it was a good idea to let her talk to me…outside. "You love me more 'an 'at!" he informs her with a crooked smile and Joss laughs as he pulls her back to him before she gets too far away and he kisses her again…they both groan into each other's mouths like they haven't kissed each other in decades or something…and then there's that kiss I'm now unfortunately familiar with, their tongues dancing some ferocious, but unseen, fandango that I'm really glad I can't see, but it's not a long, drawn out kiss, just… extreme. "Three minutes, that's all you got," and Tig's telling Joss, but he's looking at me now…really? I'm the one who needs a time limitation even though his old lady is the one that wants to talk to me? But…at least he is letting her talk to me…there was a time I would have thought that to be impossible.

"Okay," Joss smiles at Tig, not arguing or fussing, just kissing him one more time before she leaves his side but her eyes don't leave him until she's turned all the way around, and in a split second I swear I see her close her eyes and sigh quietly and sadly…hmm…Joss wanted to go out…she'd did her best to make that known, but Tig wasn't picking it up, not even thinking about it…damn Tig, what's wrong with you? Like your girl's not worth taking out somewhere and at the very least, showing off? But Joss has herself together in no time flat, raising her head and smiling at me now, leveling a stare at me that makes me curious but no less ill at ease, and her index finger flicks sharply forward, pointing outside.


	89. Out of Play

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work. _

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 89

"Oh my God! Opie, what the hell are you doing?" Joss couldn't help herself; they were scarcely away from the bay door, but she kept walking, drawing Opie over where no one could hear them. She'd intended to keep this conversation private, but she'd already gone and launched in on poor Ope, and it went against everything she'd told herself the night of the bonfire. She'd said to herself that she was out of the whole Opie/Verda loop, that whatever was going to happen there was up to them now…but then Opie goes and…oh…Opie! It still kind of hurt to be losing Ope…Oh God, she was losing him…but right now, watching him botch things up like that was overshadowing her grief. Joss huffed and sighed and huffed again, shaking her head at him. "'Come up and see me sometime?'" She questioned with an incredulous expression as she repeated Ope's words back to him. "Who are you? Mae West?" It really was improper for her to be speaking to anyone with a reaper cut like this…but…well…it was Ope, and even though Joss knew she couldn't really justify it, there were still these strange little pockets of time where she knew she could get away with not being letter perfect with Ope, and this was one of them. There was this strange kind of 'flex' built into the relationship they were developing, a lot of things kind of happened between them 'on the sidelines' and weren't considered to be 'in play.' She didn't have that with anyone else, except Tig now and then, but that was a lot different.

Ope stiffened and his shoulders pushed back, looking really defensive. But it was good that he was defensive; if he wasn't frustrated with himself too, he wouldn't have been defensive! "What the hell'd you want me to do?" He asked in a voice much quieter than Joss knew he wanted to use. "I can't just…ask her out…just like that!"

Oh God…Joss rolled her eyes. "Yes! You can!" She actually jumped up and down when she said it, not able to yell like she wanted to either, but now she was a little bit more encouraged by the fact that Ope said "ask her out." Good, he was obviously thinking about doing just that, but he was over-thinking it…a lot. "That's exactly what you need to do! Ask her out, or leave her alone! You've got her held in the middle of a 'not interested' and 'let's give this a try' and… and…" okay, slow down…Joss was feeling something pull at her again that wanted to whine the word "Hawaii" at her just like it had been doing for the last few days and that was the last thing she needed to hear right now. "Look Ope," she took a deep breath. "I know she hasn't been around that long, but I consider Verda my friend, and I can't stand by and watch someone…anyone…do that to her, okay? It's just not right. She's an incredible woman, and she likes you, but if you can't see that, then let her go. It's only fair." There, that went really well…particularly when considering that as the wife of a one-percenter the last thing Joss should be standing up for was some civilian bitch…but again, this was one of those moments in suspended action with Ope, it was okay…for a little while…but she had good reason to be carrying on like this! Verda was perfect for this life…at least, she would be, and Ope was perfect to show her how to be perfect in this life, and Verda was perfect for Ope! She had a real touch of class that would make both this club, and Ope, shine! If Ope would just get his shit together, everything would be perfect! Joss was intervening like this for them and the club; her intentions were pure, even if her methodology wasn't MC sanctioned. And Joss had gotten through her speech well, managing to make Verda look more tempting but not sound like Joss was trying to push Verda and Ope together…even though Joss was…but Ope didn't look like he was very moved.

He cocked his black, knit skull cap covered head, about to say something that he wouldn't say to any other old lady…sidelines…this is where the truth got to come out. "I'd take more stock in what you're telling me if I didn't just watch you get shot down by your own husband back there a little while ago," He pointed out, the move clearly meant to indicate how black a pot Joss was…and okay, Joss could understand that Verda was a sensitive subject for Ope and she'd even excuse him being a little…mean when it came to discussing how he couldn't exactly work up the nerve to ask Verda out, but saying to Joss that Tig had "shot her down?" Ouch…that hurt…because it was true.

All of Joss's fire went out and she grew quiet, trying to shrug it off and regroup but it wasn't easy…Tig clearly was oblivious to the idea of taking her anywhere or going any place special with her. It never registered with her man that setting aside time that was for the two of them only, and no one else, was even something that could be allowed to exist. But come on, Joss wasn't asking for wine and lobster and dancing here…she just wanted to know she could count on having an hour or two, even just thirty minutes, of time for her and Tig, where nothing else…no runs, no church, no tie rods…would interfere or interrupt. But…no…Ope was right…she couldn't manage to procure that for herself, and now she was telling Ope…a man with so much more experience than herself, how and when to ask a woman out? "Okay," Joss sighed and then moved around beside Ope and leaned back against the cinderblock wall, deflated. "You're right, I crashed and burned…worse than that actually, I was never even on his radar," her head was down, hiding her frustration from Ope and trying to regroup one more time, reminding herself of how good Verda would be for Ope and vice versa and Joss's head flew up again as she turned to Ope. Just because she'd failed herself didn't mean she was going to fail Ope and Verda too, but she was definitely going to have to kowtow to Ope's time and grade here. "In fact, I've never been out on a date ever before in my life, but…Ope, I'm just really afraid that you're taking too long a road towards Verda, and if you don't change something soon, by the time you do get to her, she's not going to be there anymore."

And then neither one said anything, silence eating up nearly the remainder of their allowed three minutes, each having made their points…dead end kind of points that drown them both in deliberation and without exchanging words or even looks, Joss knew both she and Opie were feeling pretty pathetic. Damn it, that's not what she'd hoped to do…she'd meant to pump him up and make him go running after Verda and ask her out, today, before Verda left the garage…but then Joss had also meant to make Tig ask her out, be heading out to dinner with him, for the first time ever in her life…but no one could make Tig do anything…that was for sure. She sighed, that's all there was to do now…Opie'd botched up his conquest and so had she…oh well, it's not like Joss didn't know what she was marrying…and it wasn't even like dinner out was really what she was chasing…she didn't even know what it was she was hunting and tracking by trying to arrange a date and secure time with her man…but she hadn't managed to, and that's all that mattered.

"You've never been on a date? Really?" It must have been her heavy sigh that prompted Ope to ask, and wouldn't that just be embarrassing icing on the humiliating cake to have Ope turn this whole thing on her and pump her up and make her want to go in there and try to ask Tig out again. "Like, not with anyone? Ever?" He seemed mesmerized by that bit of knowledge and Joss was afraid to look up at him in fear of seeing him grinning at her or chuckling or some other big brother kind of shit that she just didn't want to deal with right now…big brother…

Joss shook her head but she didn't look up at Ope, didn't want him to see the defeat and disappointment on her face…it felt really dismal to hear someone else actually saying that about her. "Nope," she admitted a second time, "not with anyone, not ever…never ever ever," she sighed, crossing her arms over herself, picking up one foot and bending her knee, planting her spikey heel against the cinderblock wall…her good boots…dress boots, not riding boots, not Harley boots…her good boots…

Ope didn't look at her, like he knew she didn't want to be looked at, and she didn't, so that was good. His strong fingers dove into his garage shirt pocket after his cigarettes and Joss was preparing for him to ask her how it was that she'd gotten through life…had gotten married…without ever going on a single date…she wasn't born into a club after all, no instant claim had been made to her the moment she was eligible to start seeing someone. Since Ope wasn't looking at her, Joss turned her head just a tiny bit, just enough to allow herself to watch him lighting up his cigarette from out of the corner of her eye. She wanted to be ready when he asked about her lack of a social life, wanted to be able to prepare to answer calmly and dryly, not sharply and insanely…Ope didn't know the hell she'd grown up in and Joss wasn't about to revisit it with him, or make him curious when she reacted wildly to a simple question.

Ope took a puff of his smoke, about to say something but then paused like he was thinking it over. Maybe he did somehow know what a sensitive subject this was for her? Or maybe he was going around and around in his head over Verda, putting the words together to finally ask her out…wait…Ope needed to go! If he acted fast enough he could still offer Verda a ride home! She was dropping off her car! But there was no way Joss could suggest that now…Ope had put her in her place when it came to the whole "out asking" stuff…and he was going to say something to her, he was getting closer to putting words to her with every passing second. Damn it! Just spit it out so he could go and hopefully take Verda home! "So," finally Ope spoke, Joss wishing he'd do so faster than he was and hoping he didn't ask her anything…complicated…there wasn't time for all of that! Ope scratched at his temple a little, cigarette between his fingers, reminding Joss of a hairy James Dean and then he did look squarely at her, his eyes level. "You wanna go out?"

She sighed again, wanted to be angry that he was really rubbing that in now, but all Joss could do was sigh…and feel miserable. "I tried that already…but Tig's not interested." Yeah, okay…she'd failed…leave it alone now, Ope…she wouldn't get in his face about Verda anymore…for real this time…

"No," Ope shook his head and sounded a little bit flustered, standing straight and stepping over in front of Joss and she looked up at him, wondering what the hell he was doing and talking about. "I don't mean you and Tig," he said…and he looked so…stupidly confident…however it was that those two things could coexist, but they were, Ope aware of how amazingly wrong and bad what he was doing was, but somehow, it was also okay, because they were 'on the sidelines'…and he knew what he meant, even if no one else did. He looked at Joss again, took another draw on the cigarette and turned his head away from her as he exhaled smoke, then fully centered again, he said, "I mean…do you want to go out? I'm asking you out."


	90. Aftershave

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work. _

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 90

A thoughtful face stared back at Tig in the medicine cabinet mirror this morning; he'd come in to shave before work, but he just stood here a few minutes, shirtless, looking at himself and realizing what had been on his mind ever since asking Joss to hand him the cotter pin. Joss was acting kinda…hmm…Tig really didn't know how she was acting, but he'd seen it before, sort of; it wasn't the Post Traumatic Stress shit again, at least not yet it wasn't…but that was certainly coming if Tig didn't get what was with her figured out soon…and it was up to him to get her figured out…she was his property. And yeah, it had gotten to be a ridiculous and disgusting usual for him to throw all his arms and legs around her when they fell asleep like he was some kind of…mad octopus trying to pull her towards his beak…that was right, right? Octopuss's, no, that wasn't it, there was something about a plural something or other…octopussess's…octopussies…whatever the fuck, them squishy fish with all the testicles…no, tentacles…they had beaks, didn't they? Or was that a platypus? Platypuses…platypussess…platypussies…God fucking damn it, them duck looking rat kinda things in Australia, they could shoot poison out their ass or something…octopussesses had beaks…yeah. What the hell was a 'squishy fish?' Aw, Jesus Christ, it was way too early in the morning for this shit, just focus on Joss; that was more than enough. And yeah, Tig was all around her when they went to sleep, woke up all around her too, was even to the point of not being able to sleep unless his sweet, dark, perfect angel was in his arms, and he'd always figured that was something Joss had always wanted from him, so she should be full up satisfied with shit now, right? But no…that damn girl seemed like Tig being all close to her and shit only made her need more…but more what? And where was Tig supposed to get it from? And why the fuck did he have to?

She hadn't left for the farm yet; he could hear her downstairs in the kitchen, putting his coffee on, throwing his bread in the toaster, getting the butter out of the refrigerator, cracking eggs into a pan and popping the top on a new jar of black bean and corn salsa to go over them. She'd been cooking a lot lately in the mornings, but Tig figured she was feeling close to him…they were rather "close" lately…a lotta sex…a lot…and that was fan-fucking-tastic…but Joss acting like she was starving to death on the action she was giving him was starting to suck…maybe everything, all the sex and all the cooking for him in the morning before she left for the farm, was some form of Joss's overdeveloped sense of guilt? That damn girl blamed herself for shit that she had nothing do with, and it would make sense that she was maybe feeling a little guilty about having some place to be other than at home, waiting on Tig's beckon call…and yeah, she should feel guilty about that, damn it! He was being extraordinarily broad minded and considerate letting her out of the house like he was…but then, Joss knew that…thanked him for doing so every time she showed up at the garage to meet him for lunch…she knew how rare this was and how special her old man was treating her. It still mighta been a guilt thing with her, but it was feeling less and less likely now. So, what was it? Shit…he was going to have to try to get her to talk to him about this…fuck…Tig loved Joss, loving her had so much fucking control of him now that he didn't even bother fighting it anymore, but he still hated this part of having an old lady…

Tig sighed and looked back at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror, already conceding that dinner tonight would be more about some shithole conversation than it would be throwing down enough food to fuck all night, but hopefully this issue would go down quickly…and quietly and then he and Joss would go back to being normal…as long as normal would include all the sex…he liked making both of them think he'd throw her down and fuck her, no matter where they were, every time he kissed her. But that was going to be even better once whatever Joss was doing, or feeling, or thinking or…whatever-ing was out in the open and put to rest.

He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the can of shave gel, it was time to take down some the stubble on the sides of his cheeks, all the sex was making that necessary…Joss's pretty, pale skin was beginning to look like she'd rubbed a cheese grater over it in some places, particularly the insides of her silky, white thighs…but then, who the hell would see that other than Tig? Whatever, that wasn't the point. His sweet, dark angel never complained and just bore the scrapes and rash that came with every kiss, lick or deep plunge of his tongue. It wasn't often that Tig shaved with the actual shaving gel and a disposable razor, but this way really did make his skin a little smoother than the Norelco did, and Joss deserved that, she did. Tig lathered up his face, careful to skip over his mustache and goatee, trying to stop thinking about the coming talk with Joss, but knowing it would really be best if he had a strategy…look how long it had taken to find out why she was so clingy and unnaturally obsessed with being near him the first time. Well…okay, yeah…Tig would start building his plan at lunch today…he'd read Joss a little while they ate together…wait…she was coming by the garage today for lunch, wasn't she? He'd be heading into "battle" tonight with no intel if she wasn't!

"Joss!" Tig yelled out of the open bathroom door, down the red stairwell, while carefully dragging the razor against the grain of coarse, black hairs above his jaw line, heading upwards. He had expected to hear Joss yell back from the kitchen, or maybe come to the bottom of the steps, but he was startled to hear her tall, riding boots on the steps as she quickly ascended them. He should have known; that damn girl was so hung up on him right now that she just came flying out of nowhere to be in his presence at the sound of her name on his voice. But long before Tig expected it, she showed up in the bathroom doorway like an eager eyed phantom suddenly appearing…and in surprise, Tig flinched…not a lot…just a little…but just enough…just enough to fumble the razor across his upper lip…removing a substantial and noticeable portion of his mustache on the left side of his face. Fuck!

"Oh my God!" Now Joss flinched and her fingers flew over her lips, caught between her frustrated shock for her old man and also trying not to laugh…she better not laugh…it was her fucking fault! She shook off the humor of it and stood up straight, gearing down into 'helpful mode.' "Can you fix it?"

"Fix it?" Tig repeated as if he were cursing something, and he kind of was…not really Joss though…well, yeah, but it was sort of indirect, he did call her and he knew how hypersensitive she was to everything he was to her right now. But still…half his fucking mustache was gone! His whole look was fucking ruined now! "Yeah, I can fix it, Joss!" He snarled and sneered at his lathered up and asymmetric face in the mirror. "I'll just stand fucking sideways to everybody until it grows back!" He yelled, not at all amused, "No, I can't 'fix it!'"

"I'm sorry," Joss's response was immediate…so was her laughter…she knew he was mad, and Tig didn't doubt that she really was sorry, but still those moments where she found him funny that Tig just didn't understand and was never able to predict lingered between them…and Joss was trying her best to stop laughing, her hand pressed over her mouth again, trying to take deep breaths, her white skin turning red as she choked off every giggle. "Maybe," her emerald eyes were a little watery, but she'd regained her control…back in 'helpful mode.' "You can just even it up on the other side?"

Hmm…Tig examined himself in the mirror…nope, the razor had made away with a good three quarters of 'stache on the offended side…God fucking damn it! He glared back at Joss. "If I 'even it up' I'll look like fucking Hitler!"

Joss's lips pursed tightly and she shook with the laughter she refused to let out. "Well…I was thinking more like the big guy in 'Laurel and Hardy.'" And then she just couldn't last anymore, had cracked herself up and was laughing again…turning away so she wasn't laughing where Tig could see her doing it, but laughing no less. Jesus fucking Christ…and all he was trying to do was find a way to get that damn girl out of her own head again…shit…at least she was laughing though…with whatever she had going on inside, she coulda been moping around and crying and whining like a lost puppy whenever Tig wasn't holding her…damn it…let her laugh then…shit…how'd he ever get to be this much in love?

Tig looked back at himself in the mirror again and shook his head. "Fuck it," he groaned defeated and put the razor to his upper lip again…he wasn't born with a damn mustache…it would grow back…and with a few clean swipes of the razor, the whole thing was gone. There…he'd never rocked the goatee with no 'stache look before…it would do…it would have to do! He finished up with the other cheek quickly and sloppily, rinsing away what remained of the shaving foam just as Joss had herself settled again and turned back around.

"I really am sorry, Tig." She said again, not about to lose it this time, leaning in the doorway and watching Tig rinse his face, reaching for a towel and having it ready to hand to him when he turned off the faucet. "I should have let you know I was coming up the ste—"

"Just…stop," Tig's voice was flat as he wiped off with the towel, wanting to just forget it now, having a bit more interest in how stupid he looked without the facial hair he'd had for the last three years…hmm…for as long as he'd known Joss! In a way, it wasn't his mustache that he'd shaved off, it was hers! Ha! Deal with that, Joss! Now she had to sleep with him ugly until it grew in again! He was feeling a lot better about it before he even looked up into the mirror, ignoring how Joss was scrutinizing him too, and Tig took himself in, just for himself, unruly, black, wavy curls still untamed, a spot of black right under his lower lip and his chin still camouflaged in dark hairs…upper lip bare…he looked…well…he didn't look that bad…kind of like a badass Mennonite…Mennonite's grew a beard with no 'stache when they got married, didn't they? Yeah…yeah…Joss had horses and shit, and her job was on a farm, there was a farm in Tig's life…badass Mennonite…Tig could make that work!

"Wow," Joss's remark was impossible to ignore because she sounded kinda…turned on. "You look years younger that way!"

He did? Tig looked at himself in the mirror harder, but he couldn't take a compliment without a sneer appearing on his face…in fact, he couldn't take a compliment. "Not possible," he sort of snarled back to her, but he kept looking at himself as Joss was edging more into the bathroom with him, "just looks different, that's all," he decreed as she appeared in the mirror beside him, her arm snaking around his hips, her body against his, her head turning and her lips softly on his bare shoulder, kissing it softly and moving around to the front of his chest where Joss's hand soon was felt…her fingers touching him like she wanted to soak him up through her skin…Tig better make sure there was never any kind of chest hair shaving accident, because that damn girl loved his chest, always had!

"I like it," Joss smiled, looking up long enough to talk before she moved in front of him, her back to the mirror and her mouth, lips and tongue all making their way towards his nipple…damn…he knew he could make this 'stache-less look work, and Joss was all about her old man right now, but Tig hadn't expected losing a mustache to have that effect on her…he had to go to work, so did she, but it was hard to stop her from worshipping him like this, particularly when Tig could not only feel her warm, wet tongue trace his hardening nipple, but he could see it in the mirror too, the contrast of dark pink to light pink evening up as more blood surged into what Joss's lips closed over and sucked at…and then Tig couldn't see anything, his eyes closed as he groaned a little, a million feathers seemed to tickle him from the inside, his pulse quickening, heat beginning to surge within him, making muscles contract and his big cock jerk to life…and then he felt Joss's hands smoothing up and down the power in his arms, leaning into him, trying to burry herself against him, wanting him closer and closer and closer in ways that wouldn't be possible until they were both dead…damn it…something was going on with her, and being reminded of it snapped Tig out of the spell he wanted to let strengthen so very badly. He had to talk to Joss, and to figure out how to do that, first he had to know if she'd show up for lunch.

He hated to do it, wanted to hoist her up on the sink and fuck the hell out of her, but Joss needed his help right now…the kind he could give her with his clothes on more than the other kind…besides, Tig knocked a sink off the wall once fucking some other bitch that he'd sat on top of one, and that had really sucked…bitch cut her ass open on the broken porcelain and water came shooting out of the busted pipe in the wall…brought an abrupt end to things long before it was time…game called on account of rain…okay, just stop this here and now before that scenario got repeated…help Joss. Tig's hands took her by the shoulders as he raised his head, opening his eyes and summoning the strength to pull her away from him, Joss looking up both disappointed and a little afraid that she'd done something wrong, wondering why he'd refused her…she saw this as a rejection and it showed in her eyes, her lids fluttering like he'd cut her deep enough to make her cry, and not wanting that, and definitely not meaning to make her sad, Tig's hand moved from her shoulder to stroke over her long, shiny black hair then cup her chin gently before he leaned down and kissed her softly. "We got work, baby." He reminded her in a whisper and when he looked at her again, Joss was smiling, her eyes on his now smooth upper lip.

"That certainly feels…different." She smiled and Tig could tell she wanted him to kiss her again, harder this time, for real…but that would only lead somewhere neither of them had time to go.

"It'll be here later," he told her, cracking a smile…there was a time when he didn't even consider that Joss might actually want him, and now he absolutely loved every moment of knowing she did. But he had a mission to complete…mustache or not. "You comin' by for lunch again today?"

And then Joss kind of tensed up a little and her eyes shifted apprehensively to one side and then back towards Tig again. "I want to," she said, and Tig believed that, but the next thing she said was a little…off. "I've got one horse I can trust enough to put students up on, so I've got two lessons today…so, I don't know if I can make it."

Tig wasn't sure what that really meant, Joss didn't seem sure about it herself, but if it had anything to do with whatever the hell she was silently suffering, Tig was putting an end to it here and now. It didn't really matter what her apprehensions were about lunch, because she was property after all, she'd do what Tig told her to do. "Well, 'make it,'" he told her with a shrug of his shoulders, his voice stern but he wasn't yelling. "I want you there."

Joss nodded but her expression seemed a little tense, like she was reorganizing her day now and not sure she was going to be able to fit everything in the way she'd intended to. "Okay," she promised him and nodded more to herself than to Tig, her eyes darting to the side again like she was still trying to find a time slot to work a particular meeting into, but when she looked back at Tig, she smiled. "But I might be a little late."

Author's Note: Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm also really excited and honored by the reception you've all given "The Dark Ages" and wanted to let you know that Chapter 2 of that story is also posted now. The United States Independence Day celebration on Monday July 4th left me a chapter short of my 4 per week norm, so I did my best to make that up to all of my wonderful readers by putting up this chapter and the 2nd chapter of "The Dark Ages." I would never be able to turn out work, or the volume of work, like I do without the gracious and fantastic feedback I am supplied by those who review, so everyone owes a big "thank you" to everyone who comments for both the consistency and quality of the chapters I am able to post! Thank you, as always, to all my reviewers!

As well, the Tijo album is updated again and is still accessible via my profile page, just click on the photobucket link under the word "Tijo." Thank you all again and I hope this chapter lived up to the fine standards you have set for me! - Grace


	91. To a T

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work. _

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 91

Marlous…Joss smiled, it was nice to finally know the name of the Dutch lady she and Lauren had met at the salon the day of Joss and Tig's club wedding. Joss hadn't known Marlous's name then, Lauren and her both referring to her as "Dutch" for lack of a better moniker…but "Dutch" always sounded so…manly…and even when Joss thought of Marlous as "Dutch, " knowing she was obviously an attractive woman reminded Joss of the nineteenth century slang for prostitute, "Dutch Girl"…the tribulations of having such an accurate memory…Joss had heard the term "Dutch Girl" years ago in the Ken Burns documentary on the American Civil War, and still the dirty nickname stuck in her head…calling Marlous "Dutch" just wasn't going to work. Yeah, Marlous was so much better! She definitely didn't rate as a "Dutch Girl" to Joss! The day Joss met Marlous, Marlous had been like a tall, blond stranger who recognized a nervous bride and talked horses with her until Joss stopped being so focused on the wedding…and the funeral…and the stupid up-doo her hair was being twisted into. Without that little bit of a break from the chaos of that day, Joss doubted she'd have gotten through it without her beast busting forth. Marlous had been just what Joss needed then, someone who owned a horse very similar in crazy character to Sam, the two of them swapping stories and comparing notes, Joss becoming aware of how lucky she was that she had simple things in her life like legs that wouldn't require just one more surgery to straighten out and get rid of a limp. Sam was a mess on hooves, but at least she could ride him. Marlous hadn't been able to ride her mare, Nazima, for some time due to her healing leg, her horse not being one that was good to trust as a therapy animal. But that's exactly what had brought Marlous to be the very first student at Redwood Original Horse Rescue, and Joss was determined to be everything to Marlous as an instructor as Marlous had been to her when she'd needed calming down on her second wedding day.

That Marlous had ridden before made this lesson so enjoyable for both her and Joss. The only drawback to teaching this lesson had been the dizziness that sometimes crept up on Joss. She hadn't eaten anything this morning, only some orange juice because she'd have to eat lunch twice today. And now she was standing in the center of Lauren's big arena, on an empty stomach, turning around and around to follow Marlous and the horse Marlous was riding around and around Joss. But this was fun! Joss had of course been cautious though, she'd brought the twenty foot long lunge line up to the ring with her, Marlous and the big, black Percheron gelding that had proven to be the calmest and most reliable of the new horses, so far. Joss wasn't sure how well Marlous could ride, or how rusty she was, and so Joss had been prepared to clip the lunging strap to the big horse's bridle and hook up the lunge line and essentially lead and keep control of the big Draft while she kept a careful and critical eye on her student in the saddle. But that's not at all what had happened. Marlous had arrived for her lesson early, limping down the hill to the barn in a really cool pair of black schooling tights that had dark blue and silver designs of lightning bolts on the stripes that went down the sides of the legs and she also wore an old pair of well broken in paddock boots with navy blue half chaps over them. Marlous had known how to pick up the big Percheron's dinner plate size feet and gently scrape out its hollows with the hoofpick, she'd known how to saddle a horse and do up the girth, and she'd had no trouble slipping the bit into the huge, black Draft's mouth. Teaching someone who remembered so very much, someone that Joss didn't have to continually remind to put her heels down, to keep her shoulders back, to keep her hands at the horse's withers or to look between the horse's ears was really great! It almost made her forget about Hawaii and dinners out…and lunch with Ope…and then with Tig…Jesus, why was it that when she was trying her damnest to get Tig to ask her out, he wouldn't, but as soon as she goes ahead and gives into…well, curiousity mostly, and accepts Opie's "date," then Tig goes off this morning and gets as close as he'd ever gotten to asking her out? "Make it," he'd said, "I want you there;" how was Joss supposed to say no? It went beyond being property; her man had said he wanted her with him! He was making time for her…so to speak…it was just lunch after all, but still…rather than Joss just showing up all hopeful that Tig would look at her and say, "you hungry?", she'd been ordered…no, she'd been "asked" to come…she liked how that sounded better, even if it was stretching things.

Stretching things…Marlous knowing how to ride meant that they could move right into trotting in this lesson, and sitting the trot had Marlous's bad leg nice and stretched out along the barrel of the big Percheron gelding, her heel way down in the stirrup iron, an imaginary, perfectly straight line running from her ear down to her heel, the way it should have been, she didn't bounce in the saddle or slip to one side of it, she sat up tall, but looked so relaxed; she was flawless! Joss smiled, it was kind of magical to have watched Marlous limp down to the barn from her car, but now there she was, sitting a horse and riding like there'd never been anything wrong with her leg at all. Wow, Joss had always loved horses, they'd always been such a big part of her life and had it not been for her life with horses, she'd probably have ended up in a padded cell. But she'd never realized what a great equalizer horses could be. Marlous was just as good, just as free in the saddle as Joss was herself, there were no broken legs, no surgeries with pins and plates, no noticeable limps in the saddle; there was only freedom. This was awesome!

"You look pretty comfortable," Joss said to her new student, unable to hide the smile that took over her face, the happiness inside of her blotting out all the worry over whatever this Hawaii thing was with Tig, and the date she'd accepted with Opie…oh God…she was going out with Opie! No…no, she wasn't…at least it wasn't an "I'll pick you up around eight and then we'll go to dinner and I'll try to get in your pants before midnight" kind of "going out." But she was still meeting Ope at Charming's only Park and Ride and then going to the next county to try the new Greek place that had opened…oh God, she was going out with Opie…and Tig didn't know about it…but she'd tried to go out with Tig…but Tig didn't know about that either…and somehow, Opie had ended up being her date…how the hell had that even happened? No…don't do this in the middle of this lesson; this wasn't professional. Joss sighed…Marlous was doing really really well, and she looked wonderful, looked healthy and strong…and the teacher borrowed some inspiration from her student. Marlous was a much more positive thing to focus on, and right now, that's what Joss needed, positive! "You feel like going over some trot poles?"

Marlous didn't halt the big Percheron as she looked to Joss and smiled, she didn't need to halt him, or even slow down the trot to a walk…slow down…that was key in this Hawaii-Tig thing, somehow Joss had figured that out…and Opie…maybe "going out" with him was like therapy for Joss too? Hmm…Opie was "date therapy?" Okay…if nothing else that made Joss feel better about going to lunch with him…good, what a perfect day for this lesson! Without knowing it, Marlous had helped Joss settle down once again!

Marlous smiled down from the big seventeen hand black giant, the idea of jaunting over a few trot poles obviously appealing. "Yes, I believe I would!" She replied; her chin held high and her braided, long, dark blonde hair jumping between her shoulder blades as she nodded her head eagerly. "I used to do Endurance Riding; a few obstacles would be fun, no matter how simple!"

A few obstacles…Joss smiled…date therapy…it helped clear a few obstacles…right? Oh whatever…Joss looked back at Marlous. "Okay, let me lay a few out for you." She said and turned to go start dragging the ten foot long, white, wooden poles out, figuring about five to be a good start. It would be a great way to get Marlous to use her bad leg, having to squeeze the big Percheron forward over each pole with her calves and get him to pick his huge feet up as he went over them…hmm…trying to get Tig to think about making time for just him and Joss was kind of like that…having to "squeeze" him forward…but Joss hadn't squeezed hard enough…and she probably wasn't strong enough to, either. Oh hell, why was she so hung up on this whole "Hawaii-time for only Tijo" stuff? It wasn't like she and Tig never got to see each other…she wasn't missing her man…so, why'd it feel like she was? Wasn't there better stuff to worry about? Like whatever animal was being dumped by the Rescue sign right now at this moment? The yak was still here, wandering around like a big, friendly dog, and Joss was really starting to like him…but Lauren still didn't even know about him! Joss should have been worried about that, she already knew things like that happened…and she knew she'd have to tell Lauren about the developing trend, and that wasn't going to be fun…knotted up Joss's stomach good…when she had time to even think about that conversation with Lauren, because mostly, every thought Joss had was about Tig and how they never made plans that were just about them. Tig…Joss wanted her man…wanted to nestle in against his broad, hairy chest and hold him as much as he'd allow her to…now…she wanted him like she hadn't seen him in weeks…and then Marlous was laughing as she slowed the big gelding to a walk and watched Joss laying out the trotting poles.

"I've never ridden poles in that configuration!" She said; her eyes in the center of the ring where Joss had placed the first two poles…and that's when Joss noticed how she'd placed them. Trot poles were usually laid out about three to four feet apart, one after another…but when Joss stood back and looked at her work, that's not what she saw. One trot pole was at her feet, pointing away from her toes vertically…the second pole lay above that one…horizontally in the crushed gravel of the arena…Joss sighed and shook her head…yeah, she needed "date therapy"…she'd just made a ten foot tall "T."

Author's Note: I apologize for the briefness of this note, but it's after 5am and I'm tired now. As always, thank you all for reading and reviewing, your loyalty means so much! Thanks also to DUTCH76 for agreeing to take that riding lesson from Joss! I really loved writing you!:-)

And, the Tijo Album, accessible via the link in my profile, is once again updated. Plus, there is a new album accessible via my profile page titled "Videos" that contains videos of things that are easier to understand by watching them happen. All the videos there are short, a minute or less. I hope that helps with some of this stuff I keep throwing at you, but again, thank you all for "catching" it! Night! - Grace


	92. Save the Date

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work. _

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 92

"Hey bro," Joss's white skin is even whiter than usual; she can't believe I'm doing this, but really, she doesn't have anything to worry about. I'm not sure how I know that, but I do. It's not in her to sneak around on Tig, not even when it's just meeting me for lunch…okay, I respect that, I'm fixing it so that she's not "sneaking around" anymore, but I find myself wishing it didn't matter so damn much to her…but what the hell else was I expecting? I wasn't even sure if she'd actually show up, she'd never exactly accepted the date with me, her curiosity was winning her over immediately after I asked her though, I could tell…but she never did say "yes;" she's too much Tig's to do that. I think Tig knows how much Joss is his, because she wants to be his, so yeah…this call into him will work out, as long as I'm careful with it. "I'm over here in Dixon, heading to a junker. Bumped into Joss while she was on her way to get…" I look back across the beige and white checked tablecloth at her, not being a farm boy I've completely forgotten what it was she mentioned having to pick up for the livestock. "What are you buying?" I ask her, pulling my phone a little bit away from my face, and Joss stares back at me with big, round, pretty green eyes, almost too scared to speak and risk Tig hearing her voice…even though I just told him I "bumped into" her.

"Alfalfa cubes," she kind of squeaks at me. "For the yak," she's frozen stiff, sitting there with an untouched Greek salad in front of her, black plastic fork, spoon and knife still bundled together with a napkin in a little unopened plastic bag. This really isn't the sort of place I'd have chosen for a first date…not that I'd have gone black tie or something, because that's definitely not me, but I'd have at least gone for real, honest to God silverware. But, Joss hasn't said anything, she just sort of looked around the place, at all the wallboard built arches with faux stucco look and grape vines painted as if they were twisting around every made up straight structure and kind of nodded her head. I'm not sure what that nod was about, maybe she thought I was going for some kind of "dining on the terrace," romantic Mediterranean theme for this date? Yeah, sure…this isn't a date, not a real one. But…in some ways, this is sort of like an actual date; Joss ordered a salad and she's nervous as hell. But she's got more than being here with me on her mind, this date is only part of why she's nervous. There's a lot of other stuff pulling her down, the same stuff I felt all over her the day she'd been trying to get Tig to take her out…since this date isn't really a date, guess I'll do the "friend" thing and try to get her to talk about it.

"Yeah, alfalfa cubes," I say back to Tig, returning the phone to a normal position. "For the yak," I continue…Joss has a yak? How do you get a yak? I mean, who has a yak? But Tig doesn't seem confused or concerned about hearing the word "yak," so it must be okay. "She's on her way to the Tractor Supply Company store; okay with you if I give her a hand loading up the truck with some fifty pound bags of…the alfalfa things?"

But Tig can never just say "yes" or "no" to anything without finding something to fuss about and curse at first. He's been even more cantankerous today, but something tells me it's related to the new look he's sporting, the mustache is suddenly gone…hmm, what happened to it? He lose a bet with someone? That's a story that has to be told, but Tig's more annoyed with Joss and the alfalfa right now. "How many she gettin'?" He asks, sounding annoyed that Joss even needed the…alfalfa whatever to begin with, and even more annoyed that I called him about it, but he wouldn't have been any happier if he'd found out that I just showed up and helped her load them into the truck without asking him first! Yeah…Joss was right, she was risking a lot by meeting me for lunch without her old man's consent…I'm doing right by her to be fixing this…as safely as I can. It's not like me to concoct little stories like this and bend the truth to a brother, but, well…I guess I'll always do anything for Joss…despite how…reptilian she looks making out with Tig…still makes my skin crawl when I think about it. Great…wow…some date…I think this is why I never get involved with married women…hmm, that was a really bad joke.

"She said ten bags." I answer, I do remember that because when Joss had fallen into a stream of nervous prattle, she'd said she needed ten fifty pound bags and I'd done some quick math in my head and came up with the total of five hundred pounds.

Tig is groaning, groaning in a really perturbed way. "What the fuck? That damn girl's too little; she can't move a quarter of a ton by herself!"

Well, I think she was going to do the sensible thing and load each bag one by one…but I don't point that out to Tig. "I know," I reply in almost the same annoyed tone as Tig, doing whatever I can think of to make this seem like we're now both working together towards some common goal…and we kind of are. Joss is still sitting there, watching me like I hold her fate in my hands. Part of her really wanted to do this, to go on a date…she changed out of her horse clothes and put on those tight, faded jeans, a black, stretch lace top, touched up her black eyeliner and red lipstick and put on her spike heeled boots and clipped her long, shiny hair on the sides. She does look beautiful…Joss is always beautiful…but I know what she really wants…she wants me to be Tig. Yeah, well…it's not like I asked her out because I really thought it would "go somewhere." I felt badly for her; the beauty queen, lost her baby, married at seventeen to psycho deviant, and never ever got to go out on a date. And it's not like Tig's working on changing that, so I am.

"Yeah," Tig sighs, sounding like this is a much bigger problem than it actually is…well, the helping Joss with the fifty pound bags isn't, my date with her is, but Tig doesn't know about that, and he's not going to. "Help her get that shit loaded, man. I'll catch her at the farm later tonight and help her unload it all." He's almost calm, but not for long. "You tell her don't go back to that farm and start trying to move that fucking load until I get there!"

"No problem," I nod as I say it, hoping that somehow conveys how much I mean what I'm saying, over the phone…and I do actually mean it this time; Joss isn't big enough to be hauling around five hundred pounds, I don't care how huge and crazy the horses are that she rides…or who she's married to. "Hey, there's a new Greek/Italian place near here, want her and I to stop in and get a couple pizzas to bring back to the garage?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Tig answers, sounding half interested, but he doesn't bother checking with anyone else either…big surprise. "Get the usual."

"Done," I say and I kind of smile…it's not one hundred percent accurate, but he has sort of just given me permission to get lunch with Joss, and her to get lunch with me. We're good! Tig hangs up with no "goodbye" the way I knew he would, but that's fine, I don't care…this date can officially start now! I click my phone closed and shove it back into the pocket of my jeans. My cut's in the flatbed; Joss was worried that someone might see it and then see us together and recognize who I was and who she was, and know we weren't supposed to be together. I doubt any of that would have happened, we're in the next county after all, but she was already nervous about stuff, so I didn't really mind appeasing her that little bit. Now to appease her the rest of the way…something's on her mind. "Better?" I ask her, sitting forward again now that my phone is secured in my front pocket.

She's sitting there looking back at me like she's not sure what to say, like she wants to find something wrong with what I just did…and yeah, she very easily could…but she's not jumping on it right away, and I know that means something. "Ope, was that really a good idea?" Joss asks, her eyebrows raising a bit, skin still overly white, the spike heel of her black boot tapping a panicky rhythm on the terra cotta looking floor tiles.

No, I'm not going to let her do this, we're not going to sit here over lunch and talk about how much trouble we both could be in if Tig were to ever find out that we'd had this secret lunch date that was a date, but not a date, date…Jesus, I do sound like Tig! Okay, Joss just needs to calm down and get in touch with that part of her that really did want to do this, the part of her that pulled on those jeans and zipped up those spike heeled boots. "So, what kind of movies do you like?"

Her chin drops downwards and her eyebrows rise even higher, she's really confused. "What?"

"Joss, this is our first date," I kind of lean over and whisper to her, like pointing out a cue card to her. "This is the kind of stuff you talk about on a first date."

But Joss doesn't move and her expression doesn't change; she's fighting just as hard not to relax into this as she's fighting to have a good time. "You're weird!"

"Well," I sigh and look down at my lasagne…I wish this was going better, even though it's not going anywhere. "It's not the first time I've been told that on a first date…" but really? I'm "weird?" She's married to Tig, who is afraid of dolls but gets if up for corpses, and I'm the "weird" one? I'm "weird?" Well, Joss is married to Tig, she obviously likes 'that' in a guy…maybe to her I am "weird?" That's probably a big part of why I could never get her to look my way, not even once…and as I'm contemplating all of this, I suddenly realize that Joss is laughing…not nervously like a chattering squirrel with its tail on fire, but she's actually laughing.

"I'm sorry," Joss manages to say between her giggles. "I didn't mean it like that," she tells me, her mouth half covered by her hand, but she looks more relaxed now, and as she settles down, she's still smiling, both her hands picking up the little plastic package of utensils that has been sitting there lonely on her tray since we sat down, "Psychological thrillers."

"What?" Now I'm confused, kind of thrown off by her calling me "weird" still.

"My favorite kind of movies," Joss clarifies, tearing open her utensils and getting her fork out. She's actually going to eat something! Guess I broke the ice…by being "weird!"

"You would like Psychological thrillers," I sigh again and reach for my soda. I hadn't touched a thing since we sat down, waiting for Joss to at least look like she felt okay enough with being out with me to actually eat something. "You're married to one."

I wonder if that will offend her, maybe I shouldn't have said that, Joss can be incredibly defensive of her old man, but she only smiles, her skin flushing a little pink like a school girl thinking about her crush…yeah, some date! But before I know it, all that happiness I'd just seen in her is gone, replaced by some kind of… fret. "I miss Tig," she says, kind of like she's about to drift off on some sad dream about him.

"How is that possible?" I ask and Joss's head jerks up immediately, her pretty, green eyes leveled heavily at me…there's that defensiveness. "No, I didn't mean it that way," I quickly explain, and really, I didn't. "I mean, you live with him. And he's home right now, no runs," I say, and that was what I meant. How could she miss her old man when her old man was with her? Hmm…what if…"you are still living with him, right? Nothing happened between you two that woul—"

"No, nothing happened, everything's fine," Joss kind of snaps at me, but that little bit of anger and frustration speaks otherwise, like she's upset with herself for missing him when none of the things I named had happened. "I just," and she looks away from me, down at her salad, trolling the fork through it, her face wrinkling up as she comes across a small wedge of tomato, flicking it onto a napkin with the fork. "I don't know; has he said anything to you about maybe…" but Joss stops talking, distracted by a slice of green pepper, her face wrinkling up again and like the tomato, it also gets evicted via the fork.

I'm starting to get that maybe some of her motivation for going on this date might have been to spy on Tig, through me…but I'm too engrossed by what I'm watching her do, lifting another wedge of tomato out of her salad with the fork and staring contemptuously at it…besides, I don't have any good news for her concerning Tig; no, he's never once said anything to me about missing her…or taking her out. The destruction she's taking to her salad is much easier to discuss. "I thought you were a vegetarian."

"I am," she answers without looking at me, raking through the leaves of iceberg lettuce with the fork in search of anymore dissatisfactions, finding yet another…more green peppers getting ousted.

"So why aren't you eating them?" I'm looking at the pile of tomato wedges and green peppers…green like her pretty eyes are green…and her pretty green pepper eyes lift up and stare at me like I just said something really stupid.

"Why does being vegetarian mean I have to like every single vegetable in the whole world?" She's talking like I think a lesbian wants to do every woman she sees…I know there's something on Joss's mind that's got her kind of keyed up, but Jesus…this vegetable thing's not that big a deal…vegetarians aren't some kind of race or something, how the hell could I have offended them? This is stupid…what a great date…

"I'm just wondering how you get to be vegetarian when you obviously don't like…common kinds of vegetables, that's all." Forget it…I really don't care anymore…didn't to start with…shit, and I thought that was going to be easier to talk about that if Tig had said anything to me about where to take his wife for a night out? I pick up my fork and stab into my lasagne…there's meat in it…I'm really looking forward to that right now.

Joss stops picking through her salad, guess all the offending vegetables are out of there, then she looks up at me again and she kind of sighs, her pretty green eyes round and open now, not hard and slanted like they had been. "I'm sorry, Ope. There's just a lot of things I'm trying to put down right now." Yeah, I know that…I read her a little better than she thinks I do…I have for a long time now…maybe it comes from not being able to help myself looking on when she and Tig are together, or listening to his fucked up logic about her…I don't know, but I can tell when Joss is upset about something from about twenty yards. But before I can start to ask her about those things, Joss looks back at the pile of tomatoes and green peppers. "Green peppers taste like electrical cords, and tomatoes…well, I do eat tomatoes, if they're cooked, or have been heated up on a pizza or turned into sauce, but just raw like this?" She says and pokes the tomato's orangey, red skin disrespectfully. "They're all slimy and they squash and get mushy and…" she actually shivers as she describes it and I can't help laugh a little at her reaction to an imaginary tomato…and then she goes from kinda cute to very strange. "Just something about it makes me think about a big, gloppy hunk of human flesh…"

"What?" I'm laughing, but I'm not sure why…that was gross, that wasn't cute like the "electrical cords" were. But, one thing is becoming more and more clear. "Sometimes Joss, I see exactly why you're with Tig," she smiles but I shake my head at her, smiling a bit as well. "You're weird."

And she laughs again, really laughs, just like last time. Good, I think she needs to, whatever's on her mind, it's coming at her from all sides. But it's not that she isn't happy with Tig…I think some part of me might have been hoping for that even if it wasn't in my conscious thoughts, but Joss is perfectly fitted to Tig, there's no getting them apart. But maybe I've been picking up on Joss's mysterious unrest for awhile, and the idea that maybe, just maybe, I had some tiny chance of swaying Joss my way is what's been making me so hesitant to pull the trigger with Verda…Verda…Joss is right, I need to do…something before Verda is gone; I don't want to lose her. Joss's eyes are on me like she just heard what I thought. "Hey," she says, looking across the table at me with a more mature, head back on her shoulders straight, kind of smile. "Thanks for lunch."

"Thanks for joining me," I offer back and after that we're both a little quiet, not in a bad way, just Joss eating the non-human flesh-like parts of her salad and me eating my lasagne…all of it, not having to root out and remove anything…Joss…she's a nice girl, a beautiful girl, but at heart, yeah, she really is kind of weird, and that's all Tig! Tig…Joss needs some help with him, and I'm hardly qualified, but hey, I'm doing the "friend" thing, right? "So, what's got you so wrung out?" Joss hesitates, grabs a napkin and wipes her mouth, but I know she's really hiding a little from me; it's instinct on her part, after all, her old man isn't here and definitely didn't ever say to her that it was okay to open up to me…but it is…at least on my part anyway, but I'm going to have to put this in a more MC kind of logical way. "Look," I sigh, sounding a little frustrated even though I'm not. "You know you shouldn't have been jumping all down my throat over Verda, so fair is fair, right?"

Joss nods, puts down the napkin. "Okay," and she sounds like she's standing on the edge of a cliff, contemplating leaping off. "For starters, Lauren comes home the day after tomorrow and while I have a lot of good things to tell her, like how well the new barn manager is working out, and how the riding school is officially up and running now…there's also some other, not so wonderful news I have to share with her…"

"Okay," I nod my head, listening to every words she says even though this isn't the problem I had expected her to tell me about…or for that matter, wanted her to tell me about. I think I'm going to be even more useless to her trying to help with a farm problem than I am trying to help with a Tig problem…but I got myself into this, and now I'm committed. "This have anything to do with the yak?" Really, who has a yak? Yaks, electrical cords and human flesh…beautiful girl, but yeah, she's weird!

"Yup," Joss sighs and nods her head again, looking a little regretful. "He's great," she says, of the yak, in an apologetic way. "Likes to wander around loose, but doesn't get into any trouble. Always comes up behind me and sticks his sloppy, wet nose into my pockets because he knows I keep Starlight mints in there for the horses," she smiles, and so do I…even though that's…weird. "But while Lauren's been gone, the rescue has begun overflowing! People drive by and because they saw a sign that says 'rescue' they figure we wouldn't mind one more lost soul…it started with the yak, but now we have the thirty-nine horses, the yak, four dogs, seven cats, a Vietnamese Potbellied pig, two alpacas and one emu…" her elbows appear on the table and her face crashes forward into her hands.

"'E, I, E, I, O,'" I reply, chuckling a little, but I'm not surprised when Joss moves her fingers apart enough to glare at me…I deserved it.

She sits up again and is shaking her head forlornly. "Lauren's going to freak when she hears this…and then kill me for not doing something to stop it."

"Stop it?" I ask, because I don't see how Joss was supposed to do that. "Short of taking the sign down, what could you have done?"

"I don't know," she groans, but not exactly like the way Tig groans in that "why you botherin' me" sort of tone, but Joss is still all Tig's, one hundred and fifty percent. "But it's not going to be a good conversation when I can't say that I did 'this' or 'that' in an effort to cut off the flow."

"Tell her you got some extra help to deal with the influx," I say, and I can't believe that's my suggestion.

"From where?" Joss almost laughs. "We're blowing through money too fast to hire anyone except Hayley, Lauren knows that."

"Hey, I fed some horses once; I can stop by and do it again sometime." Really? I can? Damn…I really will do anything for Joss! "Verda'd come with me, she likes it there."

I didn't even realize I'd said anything about Verda until I see the tremendous smile that breaks out over Joss's face…hmm…not only have I mentioned Verda coming with "me," I also kind of talked about her like she was…mine. What? Joss is going to be all over this…I can see it in her pretty, green eyes…she's happy, it's exactly what she wanted to hear, but I really don't want to get into that, I don't even know what I meant. Joss is going to say something, she's tempering down that smile so she can…and I'm bracing myself. "Thanks Ope, that's really sweet of you." What? That's it? I look back at Joss, she has to be pausing, there's more to come, she's just luring me in…but nope, she's putting another fork full of salad into her mouth…that's it. Huh…guess I'm not the only one who's picked up on how to read the other lately.

I owe Joss something for that, for just letting it end there and be whatever it is without trying to push me into saying something I'm definitely not ready to, or make me explain something I don't understand myself. "Tig should take you somewhere every now and then," I tell her, but go back to my lasagne as I do. "Somewhere special, a little better than this place."

"Yeah," Joss rolls her eyes. "That'll happen," she says and looks sad again…damn, I didn't mean to do that! But before I can think of something to say to lift her up again, Joss is looking at me like she really does want to talk to someone about this issue…and that she's talking to me…well…yeah, I like this. "I don't really care if he never does take me anywhere, I don't realistically expect him to do that. I just want to know that he understands that…that I want to know we'll always have time to be together, time that is just for us and nothing else. But I don't really understand why I need that guaranteed all of a sudden, because he and I already have that kind of time together, without having to pay attention to doing it, or schedule it…but…" she grabs that napkin again, wiping her mouth, but I don't think it's me she's hiding from this time. "For some reason, I can't help but feel like that time is becoming more and more threatened with each passing day, and I never used to feel that way, but it's a scary feeling."

Again I'm nodding…I feel almost like I should be taking notes while Joss lies on a couch…but this doesn't actually need to be analyzed very much. I know what's going on, it's obvious. Joss is a very intelligent girl, and because of that, I'll let her come to this conclusion herself, with my guidance. The only reason she hasn't figured it out yet herself is because she's stuck in the middle of it and that's trashing her point of view. But if I just blurt out why she's feeling like this to her, she'll feel stupid, and I don't want to do that to her; she's dealing with enough…and she's right about that vanishing Tijo time. "So, if it's 'all of a sudden' that you're concerned about time with Tig, then something must have recently changed in your life, or Tig's life…or both of your lives." I say, hoping I don't sound like I'm hiding that I've already got this pegged. "What's different lately?" But I know…I know very well…it's not just the rescue running Joss ragged, even though I can tell she enjoys having it in her life…it's also the brand new VP badge on Tig's cut…to be followed by one that says "President;" Tijo isn't secluded anymore…the club needs both of them just as much as they need each other…yeah, that's kind of scary.


	93. Boy Friend

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work. _

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 93

Joss was feeling good again, well almost anyway. The day was shaping up, the lesson with Marlous had gone incredibly well…so well that Joss had tried to talk Marlous into coming back that same week for lesson number two…but that would have been against the advice of Marlous's doctor…and Joss really didn't want to see Marlous get hurt. Oh well, there was just more to look forward to for next week, then! Next week…spans of time were depressing to think about because of the changes they could possibly hold. Joss sighed and felt the dismalness combining with her uncontrollable need to be with Tig amping up again as she pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot, Opie following behind her in the flatbed and a stack of five pizza boxes was on the passenger seat and floorboards beside Joss…five hundred pounds of alfalfa cubes in the back of the Explorer, thanks to Opie. This was lunch number two of the day…and really, though it was a little devious, lunch number one had gone pretty well…in fact, Joss was already thinking of how to broach the subject with Tig about her having lunch with Ope sometime, because it really would have been nice to do that again…with Tig's permission this time around. But lunch number two definitely wasn't the place to even start thinking about that.

Joss had to go about getting ready for lunch number two in much the same way she'd gotten ready for lunch number one. She'd had to change her clothes, back into her khaki riding breeches, tall boots and long sleeved white T-shirt that had the words "Because I'm the Instructor, that's Why!" written on it…she'd been dying to wear this shirt since she'd bought it last year…long before she ever figured she'd actually be a riding instructor. And here she was wearing it…her entire barn outfit…she had to put it back on to have lunch with Tig, he'd expect her to be in barn clothes…so she'd dressed up to go out with Ope, who she didn't want to date, but Tig, who she was dying to have that experience with, got to see her in barn clothes…today was improving, but it had ended up being so completely inside out…there was no fixing it now, right down to causing Tig to shave off his mustache. But Joss did like the way he looked, was already thinking about kissing him, how she felt so much closer to him when she did, nothing between her lip and his…nothing…and she wanted Tig's mouth in other places…maybe she could persuade Tig over to the clubhouse dorm?

Well, that all depended if he was still ticked about the mustache…maybe…he could fuck her and still be angry at her, the two didn't really connect for him in terms of feeling turned on…and even if he was unhappy with her, it would still be nice to be physically close to him, his broad, hairy chest haunted her every thought, her fingers actually throbbed with the want to be running through all the dark hairs of it, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin…she'd been missing Tig all morning, the longing rattling around deep inside of her, blanketed over by moments of distraction and excitement, but it was still there, eating a hole right through her…a piece of her was missing, and only Tig could put it back. Well, at least Joss realized what that was about now, and it did help to have finally figured out why she'd been feeling so needy and wanting to be with Tig all the time. Now she just had to figure out how to explain this to Tig in a way that wouldn't sound like she wasn't proud of him for attaining the status that he had in the club…because Joss was incredibly proud of him! He'd earned that vice president badge, and he'd earned that president's slot…Tig had been working on winning those things for a long time, without even realizing it or really trying…her man was the most awe-inspiring man she'd ever known anywhere. And being proud of him made her want to be close to him too, there was no way out of that loop, but being proud of Tig made Joss want to be close to him in a better way than feeling like she had to put a strangle hold on him and clamp down in fear of being bushed off by something.

"You okay?" Joss was getting pizza boxes out of the truck when Opie walked up to help her, both of them about to head into the garage, but Ope must have noticed the look on Joss's face…she hadn't seen it herself, but she knew it was there.

"Yeah," she answered, doing her best to ignore what was on her mind before she ended up running into Tig's un-waiting arms. "You think we should have gotten a few bottles of soda?" Joss was moving forward, working through this…she had to, now wasn't the time or the place to try to discuss this with Tig, and she couldn't be wrapped all around him in front of his brothers…there were some things that Tig was allowing in public now, but Joss draped over him and trying to climb inside his shirt was not one of them.

"There's vending machines," Ope reminded and took the stack of three pizza boxes from Joss, leaving her only two to carry, but he caught her by the shoulder just when she bent forward to pick them up and carry them into the bay. "Hey, I'll talk to Tig about this 'making time' stuff if you want me to. Might be a little easier on you, and make a little more sense to him if he hears it from a brother."

Joss smiled a little but was about to shake her head an say "no," that's not how she and Tig had ever been together, they never got someone else to talk to the other for them, and that was not something that felt healthy to start doing now…healthy…yeah, because what she and Tig had was so healthy…but it was, for them…different diets had different needs. But before she could respond to Ope, Bobby appeared, ambling down to help get lunch on the table…and to break up whatever he assumed Opie to be bringing at Joss that wasn't acceptable…Opie did have a track record, unfortunately…but this time it was different…not that Bobby could know that of course, and Joss could hear Ope sigh and mutter something under his breath, not welcoming being baby sat around her like this...but there wasn't much Joss could do, except for not tear away from Opie like he was doing something wrong, so she stood there, even looked to Ope and smiled at him, trying to make this whole thing between the two of them look friendly…not overly so, but…relaxed.

"There's our horsewoman," Bobby smiled to Joss as he approached, giving Ope a stern look that even Joss could feel, then a nod, but Bobby focused back on Joss as he stepped up beside her in the open door of the truck. "How's the farm today, sweetie?" He asked her, putting Ope in his place by not addressing him…and Joss felt badly about that, Opie didn't deserve being clipped like this…Tig was really who had to set things straight, but talking about stuff like this wasn't something in the forefront of Tig's mind. Joss was going to have to do something, but there wasn't much she could do…again…whatever she and Ope had, whatever they were building and however it was that she loved him, this was the kind of thing they'd do for each other within it all…she did love Ope. But she loved Bobby too, and he thought he was doing right by her, so Joss turned to him with a hug and kiss on the cheek, Bobby's thick hand patting her back a few times in the light embrace.

"Good," she smiled to Bobby, it was always so easy to smile at Bobby, he was never anything less than warm towards Joss, had this natural ability to make any woman he talked to feel precious…except for Precious herself, apparently…not that Joss had ever met her, but she'd heard stories from Tig…hmm…Bobby was a much better "uncle." Once more some happy life breathed into Joss, "I taught my first lesson today; a really nice Dutch lady who is trying to rehabilitate a leg injury!"

Bobby was nodding, sharing Joss's enthusiasm in a fittingly supportive way, when Opie cut in, kind of smirking down at Bobby. "Who knows, maybe one day you'll look down and find your fat ass on a horse too."

Bobby's eyes narrowed and his head jerked up sharply towards Ope, but Joss pretended not to see any of it, determined not to let them start fighting over something as stupid as this was…but it definitely hadn't yet set in around here that Opie was now an officer, and in being so, demanded a whole new level of respect. But there was no chance that Joss was going to tell Bobby anything…she could get away with that kind of stuff…almost, with Ope, but that was Ope…and whatever she had with Ope where it was sort of okay…none of that translated here, with Bobby, no matter how much like an uncle he was to her. But Bobby did need reminding of Ope's new status…and Joss was all Ope had right now. "Hey Sarge," she said, looking over her shoulder at Opie, but there was some unintended edginess in her voice, a little ticked that Ope had to say what he said to Bobby too. "Troops are probably hungry, let's go."

"Yeah," Ope tightened up his grip on the pizza boxes and headed off, but not before he subtly tipped his head at Joss, a silent thank you for referring to the new badge on his cut; whatever they had, one of the hallmarks of it would be protecting each other when the situation called for it…almost like the two of them had their own little brotherhood, just between the two of them…only Joss wasn't a brother in any sense of the word…but there was definitely something palpable between her and Opie…but it wasn't…romantic…it never had been…maybe Ope's infatuation with her had been his misinterpretation of the connection they obviously shared? Wow, one date and now she and Opie had this secret, mysterious bond that had nothing to do with date-like feelings? For crying out loud…Joss really never was going to go on an actual, normal kind of date in her life! Oh well, at least whatever it was between her and Ope wielded enough power to put an end to the mouthy little standoff between Opie and Bobby, though. That was good! Oddly enough, that was it, it was over, everything and everyone was calm again, including Bobby, who took the two other pizza boxes from Joss and began to follow behind Ope.

"Hey," Bobby called to Ope, his voice full of humor again. "Be careful going in there," he warned, and for a moment looked back at Joss and smiled devilishly. "There's a mustache thief on the loose in this town," but before anyone could laugh, Joss heard Tig's voice ring out with a louder than loud, "fuck you!"


	94. Time for a Break

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

_Warning:__ This chapter contains descriptions of sexual acts._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 94

Joss's wedding ring was tangled with his own, it was something Tig knew but didn't know all at the same time, and that was a good thing, because if he'd known, really known, really felt the black titanium shank of his wedding ring interlocked against the black titanium shank of her wedding ring, it might have given a whole new meaning to this hot, sweaty moment, grinding against each other, trying to pound one more orgasm out of each other. Joss needed this extended fuck, she needed something, Tig had figured that much out, and while he wasn't sure what it was she needed, he was trying to give it to her…but this probably wasn't the way he was supposed to do that. But she wanted to be close to him, wanted to have his body over hers, wanted to feel that they were together, kept reaching down between them when he fucked her and holding tight to the juncture of where his cock slid into her pussy…and that really lit what Tig needed on fire. Wedding rings weren't in that right now though, but Joss's hand was clasped in his, Joss squeezing his hand as much as he was squeezing hers, fingers spliced, making one big, united fist that pummeled the mattress in shared turmoil of patient anguish. That damn girl apparently wasn't lying when she'd kissed him that morning and said, "I like it" of his new, naked upper lip…it was all Tig could do to hold her off at lunch the minute everyone else had walked away from them and headed back into work…Joss wanted to go, she was ready…but it wasn't all about his new look, Tig knew that. Something was up with her, she needed something…she couldn't get close enough to him, and while they were all hooked into each other again, all the crazy, obsessive, adoration between them on full throttle, Joss was still being pushed by something that was outside of the usual, sinful and seductive madness…she needed something.

She'd stacked pillows behind her back, something she didn't usually do, but it propped her up, her gorgeous tits were against Tig's chest, hard, pink nipples digging in through the dark hairs on his chest, the contact felt pretty good for both of them, Joss constantly moving and squirming beneath him to get more friction where she wanted it at her breasts, but that's not why she'd stacked all those pillows up behind her. Whether she realized it or not, Joss was trying to put her heart close to Tig's…something Tig wasn't all that…comfortable…with realizing, but hey, he did love the damn girl, and she wasn't exactly herself right now…so he'd let it go, for now…maybe it was part of what she needed…but they'd be talking about this, that was for damn sure…if they ever stopped fucking, anyway…he'd meant to talk to her when they got home…but that hadn't happened, fucking her did…and Joss was needing whatever it was she was needing hot and heavy…complete with feeling her heart spiraling out of control against her old man's. Wrapping her up and holding her captive in his arms and legs all night was one thing, Tig had learned to live with that…and kinda want it too…but this heart to heart shit…no, those weren't the organs Tig wanted them to be shoving together…at least, not yet...they'd be dead one day, in the ground together, turning into the same dust…Joss would just have to be patient.

Patient…patient wasn't cutting it anymore as far as Tig's body was concerned. Every nerve ending in his muscles and skin felt like it was wide open and throbbing, feeling everything, but it wasn't enough, and yet too much. The air around him seemed to spark against the perspiration that clung to his body, cooling his skin with what felt tiny nips from a light socket. His balls ached and swelled, cock hard, painfully hard, its skin stretched tight and taut like wet silk around the bulging super erectness that made it feel almost brittle. But that feeling didn't stop Tig from burying every last bit of his thick eight inches angrily and as deeply as he could inside Joss's smooth, hot, tightening pussy, her sheath contracting and spasming, but not in a way satisfying to either of them, both of them trapped within this sweaty, desperate, intense, passionate fibrillation that seemed to exact more and more, but have no end. But he'd done this to himself…sort of…Joss needed something…wouldn't ever fucking say what it was, but she was all over him and wouldn't stop being all over him, and that gave all the extra "Y" chromosomes a big hard on that the rest of his body eagerly supported and mimicked. He liked his extra "Y's"…but sometimes those damn things got him into trouble, they made it impossible to just fuck once in a night…no, once was a midday snack…at night he was good for a hard, thrashing three times, followed by a less active fourth round after a little bit of sleep; getting into five or six, or even seven times in a night was something…special, happened when he and Joss were all hooked into each other the way they were again now and it took some serious want and crazy, which Tig had…but eight times in one night? Fuck…he still wanted it, but his senses were dulled just a little bit now, but the edge was still sharp enough, he could still cum…but chasing it down was killing him! He was fuckin' crazy to just cum…the tickles of it were there, teasing him, promising so much, but delivering so little, just bloating his cock more and more until the only thing that would relieve the horrible beauty of the pain was the violence of the pleasure itself.

And Joss, though she didn't really seem to be aware of much beyond how on the brink of one more last climax she was, also was beginning to get demanding, needing something more and more…straining against Tig, emerald green eyes pinched shut, every breath drawn through her red lips on a heavy hiss, her arms and her legs wrapping around him, grabbing him closer, her ankle nearly behind his head as she lifted up and curled her hips even more into his, pushing his cock deeper. "I need you," she gasped, so gone in the tension and the infuriatingly close sense of cumming that her words were barely even words…but Tig had heard them…she needed him, and when Joss said she needed him, he knew what that meant!

Fuck this heart to heart shit! Tig reached behind her and viciously yanked the pillows out from behind her, Joss's body jumping and a startled sound escaping her as she suddenly fell back against the mattress, Tig more over her now, his weight more on her, her hips much more upturned to his, gravity itself forcing his cock deeper…her pussy was all his now…and he was going to own it, really leave his mark. And then all thought just ceased, their bed, their room…the whole God damn world, feeling like it had been hit by a massive storm or an earthquake or something, everything shook and tossed around like a tempestuous sea tried to leap up and swallow it. Joss sounded almost like she was drowning, each ragged breath cut shorter and shorter by one of the butchering thrusts Tig drove into her with, relentless, determined, but so out of normal order, in hot pursuit of one last, final and most satisfying orgasm that was finally edging closer and closer, dancing in his blood, spurring him on, demanding the sacrifice of what was left of his sanity…Joss wasn't complaining, or crying, or even putting her hands on his chest and pushing at him like she did when he did get a little too much for her…she could take it, she wanted it too, she needed something…needed it like he did, needed him…she needed something, and Tig let go of everything that told him not to give it to her the way he was. His anxiousness wasn't his own anymore, it was combined with Joss's, a hunger for relief forged between them that didn't give a damn about whatever limitations they usually abided by…he could feel her body shuddering around his, he could feel how agonizingly on the edge of cumming she was, just like him, both of them shaking, both of them damn near in tears…she needed something…she needed something…closer…closer…tell him what she needed, damn it…she needed something…"break," Tig heard himself growling like something monstrous and ravenous, "break, God damn it!"

Chapter 94; Part 2

When Joss opened her eyes it was morning, kind of startling and confusing because she didn't even remember closing them the night before…she just remembered cumming…cumming hard, and screaming, trying to cling to Tig in an effort to stay in this world and not get sucked into whatever other one that felt like it was trying to pull her in. She still felt sweaty and kind of raw, her skin was cool and not at all sticky, but every mannish bit of Tig still felt like it was pooling on the insides of her thighs…and it probably was…there'd been a lot of it last night.

She wasn't looking forward to moving but knew she had to. The vet was coming out today to finish up with giving the rest of their herd a full check up as well as take a look at the other stragglers that had made their way to the rescue. With that motivation, Joss made herself ease herself up into a sitting position, every muscle seemed to groan and moan in protest, her stomach muscles felt tight and sore, her thighs the same, so were her arms…and between her legs…ooooh, was she going to be able to ride today? She loved Tig's body, but there were drawbacks to his cock being so damn big and the rest of him being so damn strong…and despite the pain, just like an addict, Joss wanted him again too. They needed to talk about this…before he killed her and she let him…well, okay, maybe that was saying more than what she meant…but still, wow, did she hurt this morning.

Tig was likely still asleep, he had done most of the work last night after all, but when Joss looked beside her, he wasn't there, just the imprint of where he had been, which looked as tired as Joss still felt, if that made any sense. Another quick look at the alarm clock revealed why Tig wasn't there. He'd been at work for almost an hour now…which meant she was nearly an hour late herself for her own job! Shit! Why didn't he wake her up? But now was no time for contemplation, her energies were better spent hauling herself out of bed and getting showered and dressed. With any luck she'd make it to the farm before the vet arrived, but even if she didn't, Hayley could more than handle bringing the appropriate horses into the barn and getting them in cross ties for their medical exams…but Joss and Lauren, being the founders of the rescue, really should be there, and Lauren couldn't be, so Joss had to be…and yet she wasn't…oh holy hell! This was yet one more bad thing she could end up having to tell Lauren about if Joss didn't get her ass out the door five minutes ago!

In less than ten minutes Joss was out of bed, in the shower, out of the shower and then peeling down the red stairwell in dark purple riding tights, tall boots and another random T-shirt with a horse on it…hmm, Redwood Original Horse Rescue needed some of its own T-shirts made up…but that was a thought for a time when she had time. Her hair was still wet and not yet braided back…she'd do that when she got to the farm. There wasn't time to even think about eating breakfast, she'd just show up around lunch time again and eat with Tig, she could wait that long, she just wouldn't tell Tig that she'd skipped breakfast, he got nervous when she didn't eat. But rounding the corner to grab her purse and her keys and then head out the screen door in the kitchen to the truck, Joss found that Tig had already beaten her to the whole breakfast dilemma. There on the kitchen table was an open, half empty bag of tortilla chips and jar of grape jelly with the top crookedly twisted back on, along with a note that said, "Eat something!" in big, huge letters, an arrow drawn underneath them, indicating there was more on the other side. Joss sighed…tortilla chips and grape jelly? Well, now she knew what Tig had for breakfast…there wasn't really time but Joss popped a broken tortilla chip into her mouth, just to appease her man, even though he wasn't looking on, and turned his note over. "I tried to wake you up," it began in its own rushed handwriting. "But you looked at me and said 'baaahmmf,' so I let you sleep, cuz I don't know what that means. Anyway, I wanna talk to you, so make time."

Make time…Joss stood there reading those two words again and again, despite how late she was running. Make time…Tig was telling her to "make time?" Hmm…yeah, he was…"making time" was kind of her thing as his old lady…Joss began to smile. Without even knowing what was wrong, Tig had just solved her problem. God, she loved him!


	95. Lookout

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 95

"Can you lift your arm up straight, so that your fingers are even with your shoulder?" Dr. Forpaw was really sweet to be checking this out for Joss, it was a great, big, yank Joss's shoulder had just taken and it did hurt, she couldn't hide that despite how she'd pushed on and insisted that the huge blonde Belgian stud that hated her walk into the barn…but Joss had crossed all her fingers and toes and was praying for his mercy the whole time, too. He was such a big, strong horse…and she liked him, she did…he was the one she'd fought so hard to save in the Kill Pen at the auction…but he was a lot of horse…particularly when it was very clear that he hated her. She'd gotten him into the barn though, her knees shaking the whole time, but she managed to even back him down the alleyway between the two rows of box stalls and hook him into cross ties…but it had been a long trip from the quarantine field to the barn! That big horse, the biggest horse she and Lauren owned, really didn't trust Joss, was yet to disassociate her with an old piece of shit diesel pick-up truck trying to run him down. But he had to be seen by the vet, have blood drawn to get a Coggins on him and give him his routine vaccinations. He'd been hard to catch, ran all over the field with his ears pinned back, squealing and kicking at Joss who only caught him because four of the other horse boxed him in accidentally…but as soon as she'd tried to lead him from the field to the barn, he'd reared up again…high…big, heavy, huge hooves waving around and striking the air well above her head, and he actually pulled Joss clear off of the ground, leaving her dangling sharply by the hand that clung to the lead rope.

For a moment though, Joss became the patient, trying so hard now to shift her focus to the pain she was in instead of how and why that horse hated her so much. Joss wanted Tig…this would be a lot easier with Tig here…as long as he didn't propose hooking that big horse up to a winch again. No, Joss had to do this on her own…there was zero chance of Tig driving up, she'd just have to deal with it. Her shoulder…Joss held her arm straight and lifted it upwards like Dr. Forpaw had said to, no problems there, her range of motion seemed to be good…and she hoped it was, because Tig would freak out if she showed up for lunch with an arm that didn't work. In Tig's universe, his old lady wasn't supposed to be the one getting banged up; he really couldn't handle it when she did.

"That's a good sign," Dr. Forpaw said and smiled in relief, then casually turned back to the huge, blonde stud, brushing her short brown hair behind her ear. "Nothing wrong with your rotator cuff," she explained as she walked towards the big horse's shoulder, her thumb and index finger pressing down the length of his long spine in search of any sore spots that would mean he couldn't be ridden, but the enormous horse didn't flinch. "I flipped over the handle bars of my dirt bike once, lost my RC that way."

Joss nodded, was impressed and interested that the vet rode something akin to a motorcycle, would have ordinarily inquired about that and then maybe mentioned that her husband was a…hmm…Dr. Forpaw had been to the rescue several times this week examining horses and other animals, so she knew it was called Redwood Original Horse Rescue, but maybe she didn't know what that meant, exactly? Yeah…if Joss were going to talk about Tig, or the club, to the vet then Joss would have likely described them all as "Harley enthusiasts," just to be safe and not freak the vet out by saying, "my husband's a biker." Joss liked Dr. Forpaw, she was a good vet and a good person, always tried harder than she had to with the animals and wasn't satisfied to just make an assumption about something. And if Joss had a suggestion, or a question, Dr. Forpaw wasn't short or brief with the answer, she made sure Joss understood all of what she needed to, always said more than she had to, and a lot of it centered around what a great thing Joss and Lauren were doing for the horses. It was all about the animals for Dr. Forpaw, not the money…she was the perfect vet for an animal rescue! Animal rescue? Well…yeah…it was happening, despite Joss's best efforts…she'd enlisted Chucky to sit up by the rescue sign and try to stop anyone who tried to ditch an unwanted animal…and it almost worked…today they'd only ended up with one crate full of five rather wolf-like puppies.

But Joss didn't ask about Dr. Forpaw's dirt biking hobby…she wasn't feeling real chatty. That big horse hated her…hated her a lot…and this exam was far from over, they weren't even to the more invasive parts of it. But Joss did watch what the vet did, hoping no obvious problems appeared as Dr. Forpaw felt the big horse's back, the stud not giving any indication of pain or discomfort, and while Joss was glad to see that, she was also already nervous about the coming blood draw and injections. Someone would have to hold that blonde giant still, hold him by the halter, so that Dr. Forpaw could take blood from the vein in his neck, and Joss already knew how that big horse was going to react if she got near him again. His nearly egg sized brown eyes widened and he snorted if Joss even stepped too much inside the barn he was in with the vet. Where was Hayley? Joss hated to admit it, but she was bailing out…that horse just hated her far too much; inserting herself during his exam was only going to increase the chances of everyone being hurt, including the big Belgian…the blood draw needle for equines was easily four times the size of the one for humans and his jugular vein and carotid artery lay right beside each other, both about as big as a pencil…but with as upset, scared and angry as the huge stud was, due to Joss's presence, those veins had likely pulled in deep within the muscle around them and shrank in size. This was dangerous; if the big horse jerked or moved, Dr. Forpaw's control of the needle could waver and it would be very easy for her to accidentally go through both the vein and the artery next to it, if he really moved, he could even send an air bubble from the empty syringe jabbing into his brain…killing him. These and a few others wild, freak occurrence like scenarios danced through Joss's head, but at the end of it all was that having the gigantic blonde Belgian keep still was imperative! Joss being there wouldn't create that…and she didn't want to even try…it was poor horsemanship to shy away from a difficult animal instead of trying to work with him…but that's what Joss was doing…there was just too much on the line, he'd already nearly torn her arm off, right? Damn it, she felt so shitty.

"Thanks for checking on the shoulder," Joss said to Dr. Forpaw, having to cough a little first to make her throat open up enough to speak, and when she did, she sounded bashful and overly thoughtful, like she expected Dr. Forpaw to look back at her and ask the horse's owner why she was expecting the vet to be the only one in the barn with this huge, nervous animal.

"No problem," answered Dr. Forpaw without looking away from the big, blonde stud, walking around the back end of him, patting his rump lightly as she did to let him know she was there and then heading over to her medical chest, picking up a pair of hoof testers, and Joss cringed…she couldn't imagine lifting up the massive hooves of that big horse and then purposefully clamping down on them with what looked like big, rounded pliers. But Dr. Forpaw went about her work without much fear, just caution. "When we work with animals this big, we all gotta look out for each other," she added as she fit her hand around the fetlock joint of the big horse's left front foot…and to Joss's surprise, and chagrin, the big blonde lifted his foot right up, no hesitation…yeah, it really was just her he hated and didn't trust, he wasn't really a "difficult animal," Joss was. Joss couldn't watch anymore…and felt even shittier after Dr. Forpaw's comment about "looking out for each other," but that big horse wasn't going to be calm for the blood draw if Joss tried to stand next to him and hold him…in a way, wasn't that "looking out for each other" though? Tig…Joss really wanted Tig…Tig looked out for her…

Joss carefully walked over to the goat grooming stand by the tack room door, practically tip toeing in an effort not to draw the big Belgian's attention; Joss needed the two way radio so she could call Hayley and ask her to come down to the barn and hold the big horse, but the huge blond stud did notice Joss and he squealed again, his ears going back and he ripped his large hoof away from Dr. Forpaw and the hoof testers, slamming it angrily onto the concrete floor of the alleyway as Joss entered the barn. "Sorry," she said weakly to Dr. Forpaw, who straightened up and sighed a little, brushing her hands off on the girly, fuschia coveralls that Joss loved; they really did sum up Dr. Forpaw, ready to work, but still fun. The vet shook her head a little at the big horse as she brushed the sides of her short, layered brown hair back behind her ears again, and she looked at Joss, now understanding what the problem with the big horse was…he just didn't like Joss. Oh God…Dr. Forpaw hopefully didn't think that Joss had been mean, or worse, abusive, to that huge, blond, Belgian stud, did she? Joss couldn't live with that! Where was Tig? Tig would set things straight…well, kind of…Joss for a moment flashed on Tig motoring up and then walking over to the quarantine fence, pointing to the big Belgian and saying, "Hey, you! C'mere, I wanna talk to you…yeah, quit tellin' people my old lady hurt you. You know that ain't how it fuckin' happened!"

The picture in Joss's head should have made her laugh, but it didn't…she was too upset with herself…she was about to remove herself from the big horse's presence, and she was looking forward to doing so…and that felt…well, 'shitty' didn't cover it enough. What a great day…she woke up late, no breakfast, her hair had dried in the braid she'd twisted it into and was likely to be all rippled and kinky for awhile instead of silky straight, and Tig thought something was wrong, wanted to talk to her…well, at least Joss had figured that one out; when she and Tig did talk, she already had a solution to bring him. But now this thing with the big horse slotted right into the "oh no" column before Joss even had the chance to call herself worry free. But she picked up the two way radio she'd been after, as heavy as it seemed like it was. It was past time to call for Hayley. "I'm going to call my barn manager, he'll be better with her." Joss explained; her shoulder hurting a lot more now than it did before as Dr. Forpaw nodded thankfully. It had been a long time since Joss felt this kind of shame…walking away from something because it scared her…and really, that was the truth…she was as much afraid of that big horse as he was of her…both of them for the same reason…and it wasn't either of their faults. Tig…Joss really needed her man right now…he wasn't any good with horses, really…he just didn't how to be, but he was good with her, all the time…he wanted to talk, told her to "make time"…no problem, Joss really needed to talk too…about that short, fat meat man…what happened to him? Somehow she felt like knowing might help her confidence with the big horse.

In an amazing feat of bravery Joss watched Dr. Forpaw square up and then bend down again and grab the big horse's leg once more, giving it a slight squeeze until he lifted up his foot, and she went right back to what she was doing, despite having him react so angrily, almost smashing the pretty, young vet's foot in the process. "He's not so bad, really" she said, looking down at what she did with the hoof testers, hard at work, not checking out anymore of Joss's injuries…or was she? For a brief moment Dr. Forpaw looked over her shoulder towards Joss, so much wisdom showing her face, despite how young Joss knew she was. "But, he's your horse; he's going to have to be better with you eventually though, right?"

Author's Note: You know how this goes; this is where I fall on my knees and thank all of you for reading and for reviewing! But I mean it as much now as I've meant every other time, and every time in the future! The past week was kind of tough, difficult to find time to write, but I just wanted to let you all know that you really motivated me to keep up and get chapters posted! Thank you! A big part of becoming a better writer is making yourself write even when you feel like you've got nothing; it's the only way to clear a "block." I really want you all to know how much you've all helped me do just that! Thank you!

Also, another big "thank you" to 4PAWDOC for agreeing to lend her aide to the Redwood Original Horse Rescue! Thank you for your fearlessness professionalism, and kicking Joss in the a$$ at the Truly, I enjoyed writing you and Joss enjoyed meeting and working with you! You're definitely on her speed dial!;-)

And…just a quick announcement that the Tijo album, still accessible via the link in my profile page, has once again been updated; also check out the writing challenge photo manips! (Oh, and if they didn't take it down again, check out "Tijo Spell 2," and "Tijo Spell 3," steamy Tijo pics, too!) Thanks again to all for reading and particularly reviewing! You all help me get better and better and that, plus all the great people I've met here, is more than I'd dreamed of from writing fanfiction! You all are just so…great! - Grace


	96. Parts and Labor

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 96

Every time Tig saw that damn girl it was like there was more wrong with her than before. She was quiet, like something was heavy on her mind and she couldn't stop concentrating on the solution to some problem than had followed her to the garage from the barn. Jesus Christ, what now? "You fall off a horse today?" Tig heard himself grunt, wondering if she was concealing an injury and maybe that's what was putting that look on her face. Or, maybe it was just the humiliation of coming out of the saddle for someone who rode like Joss did? He hadn't seen her ride a lot, but he did see her jumping that big, black horse Hob-bitch had…that looked like it required years to be that good.

"No," Joss answered, holding the little waxed paper container full of mozzarella sticks, but she wasn't eating them. She sighed a little, like there was something she hadn't told him that she should have right off the bat…fuck. "That big Belgian stallion yanked my shoulder pretty good trying to get away from me when I was leading him to the barn though, but I'm okay; just a little sore."

"What?" Tig sat up straight, on alert now. "That big, yellow son of a bitch from the auction?" He asked, but didn't give her a chance to confirm anything. That horse was a monster, a real monster…he was huge! Whether he meant to or not, that horse could seriously mess Joss up! "Come on, let's go then," he ordered her and began to step down off the top of the picnic table that they had all to themselves, but Joss was slow to move, looked confused.

"Go where?" She asked, climbing slowly down from the tabletop to the bench seat where her feet had been; her head shaking and untouched mozzarella sticks in her hands.

"Saint Thomas, get you checked out." Tig went for his pocket where his keys to the bike were, then had a second thought. "Gimme your keys, don't wanna take the chance that you can't hold on to me on the bike."

"Tig, I'm fine, a doctor already checked it out and she said the same thing." Joss wasn't moving anymore, had actually climbed back up to her former perch on the tabletop, waiting for him to come back and rejoin her…but, Tig had questions, and a lot concerns still.

"Why the fuck didn't you call me if you went to see Opie's…whatever she is, Joss? God damn it, that's the kinda shit I'm supposed to be around for!" He was a hair away from yelling at her, but she deserved it. Joss knew she wasn't supposed to…get busted up!

"Because I didn't go to see Verda; Dr. Forpaw looked at me." The louder Tig got the quieter and calmer Joss got…which drove Tig insane, because he knew he'd end up following suit…which is also what Joss knew and that's why she did that quiet shit.

"Who the fuck is that?" It took more effort to raise his voice that time, so Tig added a clenched fist for further emphasis.

Joss hesitated a little, took a bite of a mozzarella stick like she needed an excuse not to answer. "She's…my vet." Tig didn't have to say anything; Joss read everything in his face from his "what" to his half laughing, half angry, "get in the fucking truck!" She shook her head calmly, "I know, okay?" She said, conceding that he was right first…damn it, she knew how to make him listen right when he didn't fucking want to. "But bones are bones, Tig. When something goes wrong with them, it's pretty obvious, and she gave me the all clear." But Tig still narrowed his eyes at her…mostly because she'd made too much damn sense that he wasn't ready to hear…his old lady got checked out by a vet? What the hell? Why'd it have to be Tig's old lady that went to the vet? No one else's old lady went to the vet! Fuck…Chewbadooba was going to be all over this! It was going to be talked about a lot by the guys; it would be funnier than Tig's sudden lack of a damn mustache! He could hear it now…"yeah, Tig's married…of course, his wife goes to the vet instead of the doctor…ha ha ha…"…Shitfuckers! It was all because of those God damn cows! Jesus fucking Christ, one cow…mishap and that's all anyone ever…cows…oh shit…cows…cows…no…no…no cows! No cows! Just because Joss went to the vet didn't mean she was a cow…cows…no…cows…cows…cows…coming home…cows…mooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! God fucking damn it! Why didn't all those stupid ass psychiatrists come out with a cow pill? Tig might actually take one!

"Don't talk about that shit, you gettin' me?" Tig was in front of her, lifting her chin upwards with one hand and pointing his finger at her with the other…this vet thing wasn't getting out, God damn it!

Joss, completely unfazed, nodded her promise. "I'm sorry I didn't call you, I just didn't think it was that big a deal. It's just…horses, really."

Okay, she was fine…Tig still fumed a little, but he was settling too, climbing back up onto the picnic table with her, but he managed a scowl when he turned to her. "And vets!" He added indignantly.

"I'm sorry," Joss replied again in that calm, quiet voice. "I wasn't thinking," she admitted and then seemingly from out of nowhere, she leaned her head against his shoulder, slumping there like she needed to borrow strength from her old man to sit back up. Yeah, something was wrong…something new, and Tig could no longer ignore it when Joss got close to him like this, remembering a time when he would have either pushed her away or get up without warning and let her fall over…but those days were long gone…and part of him would always miss them. But even as he missed them, Tig put his arm around her back and pulled her a little closer. Joss…his poor dark, sweet, perfect angel…she needed his help; no vet was going to get her through whatever the hell this was.

He had wanted to talk to her, and it was okay to do that right now, they had the picnic table to themselves, Joss had been late to lunch by about twenty minutes or so. Not that Tig minded other than food being cold and him being hungry, but he kinda figured Joss had a late start to the day and was trying to catch up with everything. Besides, she did call to tell him she was running late, something about a horse that she had to chase down to bring in for the vet…and then the thing with her shoulder…yeah, she was having a rough day, and now here she was leaning on her old man for support, wanting him to make it okay again…the way she was supposed to. Tig's palm pressed to the small of her back, feeling like his hand nearly covered all of it and without thinking about it he started to rub in big, slow circles, trying in some unconscious way to make Joss relax, make her feel better. "Tell me what's wrong, little girl."

She took a deep breath, Tig's hand riding the rise and fall of it on her back then Joss sat up enough to set aside the mozzarella sticks that she'd been picking at more than eating. Hmm…Ope had said she wouldn't eat them…Tig never remembered ordering food for Joss before, so he probably hadn't ever done that, but he had on more than a few occasions told her what to eat. His sweet, dark angel didn't eat meat, and now Tig finally understood why, and that helped make it feel a little less…wrong, so he knew what not to get for her…ended up in a semi-argument with Ope about what to order for her, Ope kept saying "salad" like it had been written in the stars the night before or some shit…so kinda just to spite him, Tig ordered Joss the mozzarella sticks, fried ravioli and French fries…which just blew Opie's mind; Chewbadooba just stomped off mumbling something about, "she's not going to eat all that fried shit…girl takes care of herself…not surprised you don't know anything about how to do that…" Whatever Chewbadooba…no meat was no meat, God damn it! But it was pretty obvious that Tig should have ordered her a salad…Joss had been peeling the breading off of the mozzarella sticks and blotting the gooey white cheese centers with napkins, removing all the grease she could, but she hadn't eaten a whole lot…damn, just when Tig thought he was getting somewhere he should be with this Joss and Ope thing, he went and ordered Joss a lot of stuff she didn't even like just to put Ope in his place. Yeah…that still had to be worked out…and it would be a lot fucking easier to work out if Ope would just…shit or get off the Chupacabra pot and make it clear that he was really and truly moving on and over Joss. What the hell was Chupacabra pot? Sounded freaky; where could Tig get some?

Joss's body returned tightly against his own and Tig forgot about the…whatever it was he'd made up this time…just looked down at Joss, letting her know with an impatient look that she was supposed to be talking right now, but blanketed it all with another slow, gentle circle of his hand on her back. Joss leaned into him a little more, but looked up, peridot eyes on his. "I…I already fixed the 'what's wrong' part." She said, but she still sounded like she was unsure, or that she was still upset about something at least. "So, we don't have to talk about it you don't want to. It's my thing, not something I should be putting on you; I finally know that."

"If you 'figured it out' then why you so run down and shit?" Tig's doubt was very evident, Joss looking up at him with a frozen expression, like she didn't think he'd push, but he was; he had to fix her, damn it! And if he didn't fix her personally, then he had to make sure she did it right herself, and so far Tig wasn't impressed. "You're not making sense here, Joss. What's going on?"

She had to answer, she knew that, he'd made that very clear, and she was a good girl, she'd do what he told her to…but she really didn't want to tell him what it was. Why? How bad could it be? Joss sighed and closed her eyes a moment. "I just got kinda freaked out because…and I love you, and I'm happy for you, and us, and I'm so so so proud of you making VP, but…" and she stopped, like the words wouldn't get in the order she wanted them too, or no matter what matter she put them in she always sounded like some whining, nagging bitch…but Tig knew she wasn't…and he also knew what was wrong now…she loved him, she was proud of making VP, but…

"Joss," his hand moved from her back to her shoulder, the other taking hold of her opposite shoulder and he turned her towards him, holding her there. "You're still going to see me, baby." He told her, looking down at her and giving her a little shake with each word he said like he wanted to make sure it penetrated into her and she understood it. "Yeah, things are going to be a little busier now, we both got our own shit to deal with, but Jesus, little girl…so I might get home a little later, I might have more trips out of town, but I'm always coming home to you, you know that." Joss nodded and to her credit she didn't look like she was about to cry, but yeah, thinking about the new demands on her old man with the new badge on his chest had been freaking her out. But, c'mon! Tig sighed, knew he was about to sound angrier and more annoyed than he actually was, but he didn't have whatever tone of voice that was appropriate for what he was going to next. "You gotta trust me, Joss. I'm here because I can't make myself not want to be here, with you. You know what being with you is to me, and you know what you are to me too, so suck it up! Took a long time for me to get here; why the fuck would I leave you now? You got me right where I tried like hell to never end up," he told her and then let go of one of her shoulders, his hand fumbling around by her purple riding tights clad thigh until his fingers found hers. "Gimme your hand," he muttered, then took it in his, shaking it like some goal had been accomplished. "That fight's over, you win. Congratulations!" Joss smiled, laughed a little, looked more like herself, but there was still something she wanted him to know and was still trying to decide how to tell him. Shit! She was going to try and take over the whole making sure they saw each other deal…oh hell no! That was more Gemma's shit…the whole unnecessary "take charge" attitude that had won Gemma the reputation as a super-bitch. That's not what Tig wanted for Joss; not at all…that's not what Joss was, not even a little bit, and she didn't need a "bitch" crutch to lean on to appear strong either. She was strong! Tig loved Gemma, always would, but there were a lot of things that he didn't like about what Joss's "mom" had done to her, and it was time to undo them. "But don't think that you scheduling…play dates for us or some shit, or writing me stupid love notes and sticking them in my lunch, or following me around so you can 'coincidently' run into me, or calling me during the day for no damn reason, is going to help anything, because it won't! Don't fucking stalk me! That's not we've ever been, baby. Let's not start now!"

Joss's spring green eyes were wide with that revelation but she wasn't objecting, just looked more like he'd pulled the rug out from underneath her…damn, so that was her plan then? Tig smiled a bit himself, trying to hide it, but it wasn't easy…he knew his old lady better than anyone else knew their old lady. "You're right," Joss answered right in time to further stroke his ego and she was nodding her head, the pieces of what he'd told her still falling into place in her head. "And I do trust you," her eyes were on his again. "I hope you never thought that I didn't." And then she was plastered against his chest again, her head tucked under his chin and her hands flat against his gray Teller-Morrow shirt, not daring to try and wrap him up in the lovey little cage they made around him. Good!

"You're good, don't worry." Tig answered, but didn't put his arms around her either, he was still sending a message, a little admonishment for the way she'd wandered off, even if it wasn't far, but he did put his hands behind him and lean back on the table a little, not a lot, just enough to make it more comfortable for Joss to lean against him, her head on his chest like that. He did love the damn girl after all…might as well let it feel good.

He didn't expect to feel her head lift up for awhile and was surprised when it did, Joss speaking before he had a chance to sit up again. "Tig," she began like some kind of major pronouncement was on the way, like all that time she she'd been stealing snuggles, she'd also been thinking about something and now was going to put it to him. Great…wasn't this "talk" over with now? Didn't he end it? But Joss had something to say, and she was going to, sitting all the way up herself, but still facing him. "I know you're going to think this is stupid, and you'll say 'no,' but…" she searched out courage this time, not words…what was going on? "But I already backed down from that big horse in fear today, and I don't want backing down to become a habit, so I'm not backing down from this anymore, even if you do yell at me or…whatever," okay, that damn girl was fighting for something…what was it? And why the hell was she afraid of the big horse? Joss wasn't afraid of horses, damn it! Shit, Tig was going have to fix that too! But Joss was looking less and less nervous and scared now, squaring up and looking at Tig again, as strong as ever. "You always tell me to tell you if I want something, so that's what I'm doing. I want to go out. Like on a date. With you. It's been on my mind a lot lately, and I keep trying to tell myself that I don't really want that, that I just wanted to know we'd still have time to be who we are together, but now…I think I really do want to go out, with you, on a date." She paused, took a deep breath, there was more…why? "But it's not what you think—"

"You're right; I think it's pretty stupid!" Tig couldn't stay quiet and let her finish. Who the fuck dated their wife? What the hell'd she want? A night at the opera or some shit? Jesus, they went out! They went out all the time! What the hell were all the after-chuch club parties? What the hell was that night they spent at the campground, when he'd been promoted to vice president? And the horse auction…they went out! "Why we gotta bring the word 'date' into it? When have we ever done that shit?"

"That's kind of my point," Joss looked like she wanted to sigh or roll her eyes or something, but she didn't dare. "But I'm not really asking this for me."

What? This wasn't for her? What the fuck? "You been smoking Chupacabra pot, Joss?" He wasn't surprised to see the way Joss looked at him, but he ignored it. "What? You want me to 'date' someone else?"

Now she sighed, and rolled her eyes. "No to the 'goat sucker marijuana' and no to your other question, too," and Tig smiled a little again, knowing that Joss loved him way too much to even think about him being with someone else, let alone say those words. Now he even felt a little bad about saying them himself…what? Shit, he hated this part of having an old lady! But his old lady kept talking; she clearly had some kind of…plan or something. "I need you to take me out to…wherever, but somewhere nice enough for Opie to take Verda too." Now Joss smiled a little while Tig made another confused and overly bothered face. "I think that if you and me, and Juice and Lauren all got together, and invited Ope along, then he'd have to go ahead and finally ask Verda out…it's the push he needs, because right now, he's just 'thinking' about asking her out instead of doing it."

Now Juice was coming? Shit! This wasn't fair! Why was it turning into a…thing? What was wrong with Ope asking Chupacabra to come to the club party this coming Friday? Let her start out as a hangaround, Ope's hangaround, let them build from there the way it was supposed to go! God fucking damn it! Why did everything have to be shifted into Chupacabra's echelon? This was so wrong! If Ope wanted to play it that way, fine…Tig could understand kind of easing a chick like Chupa into this life, might have been what doctor bitch needed, too…but why the fuck did Tig have to be part of that process? He grit his teeth and looked back at Joss, wishing she didn't present such thoughtful and clearly supported arguments, but he wasn't giving into rationality just like that! Oh no! "Because Ope won't go on a fucking date, I have to?"

Joss looked steadily back at him, her head cocked like all the answers were weighing it down, "Only if you want to see Opie in his own relationship and finally out of ours."

Oh sure, Joss was making sense, but it didn't mean he had to! "Can't we just…tie them up together somewhere, have Bobby marry them and call it done?"

"Tig," Joss laughed, and it was good to hear her doing so again…apparently the only problem she had still left to be put down was that big horse, and Tig would have to think about that one a little more…go up and watch her with that horse…hmm…there was time together right here. Joss leaned close again, but didn't lay her head down on his chest, but she planted both her hands there, looking up at him and very slowly tipped her chin up, getting nearer and nearer until her lower lip gently and longingly brushed over the place his mustache used to be, then kissed him, Tig's arms around her and pulling tight with all the heat that flashed over him before he even realized it. But she wasn't kissing him just to lure him into agreeing to this…outing thing, because Joss wasn't stopping when she felt Tig give into what they'd both been giving into lately, she was as lost in this kiss as he was, moving even closer to him so that his hand could slide down over her ass and her perfect tits where flat against his chest, her tongue tangled with his in a hungry knot. Why'd they have to go on a 'date?' Staying home and doing this was always a lot better than any 'date' Tig had ever been on! But as they slid away just far enough to take a breath, Joss was looking up at him again, her eyes drinking in his, every part of her that Tig could feel singing out how much she loved him and belonged to him, but she was sticking with this, she wanted a 'date.' "It's your call," she told him, then her eyes kind of fluttered shut and she kissed his smooth upper lip again…yeah, she really did 'like' that! But before that kiss turned into something good and heavy, she opened her eyes and looked at Tig again, this time a bit hopefully. "But I think it'll work."


	97. Yakkity Yak

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 97

Lauren shook her head and threw her hands in the air like she couldn't think of anything else to say, but Joss knew this wasn't over. Lauren was just inundated, more information coming at her than she could process all at one time…and Lauren was a very responsible and organized person, never left the interior of her house without perfect make-up, always knew where everything was no matter how long ago she used it, she made schedules for feeding, the farrier visits, vet visits and dentist visits even when there were only three horses on her farm. And now she'd come back from her honeymoon to find that… it was like some…tornado of animals had come by and spit out a haphazard zoo. The thought of trying to get everything structured and properly cared for now and into the future was really starting to take out the reasonable and coherent core of her. She was at a loss for words, bowled over, knocked for a real loop…and she didn't even know the half of it yet!

Joss had known this wasn't going to be an easy conversation to have, no matter how hard she had tried to correct the endless stream of abandoned animals that showed up on the rescue's figurative doorstep every morning. At least Joss had Chucky standing next to her for support…his arms full of little wolf looking puppies…which had turned out to be Alaskan Malamute crosses…Dr. Forpaw had of course checked out the five puppies and declared them to be mixed breeds that had more Malamute blood in them than anything else, hence the wolf like features they all had. And that was good news! Joss had hoped to butter Lauren up with five cute little puppy faces now that she knew they weren't some kind of wolf-hybrids that weren't wild, yet weren't domestic, and therefore, plain not able to be trusted in either world. But Lauren hadn't been as touched by the puppies as Joss had hoped…she was freaked out…big time!

"Oh my God, I just don't believe I came home to…this!" Lauren sounded almost like she was on the verge of fainting, but she didn't, she just spun around a little and looked over at the big, shaggy, friendly, black yak that Juice was still getting happily acquainted with.

"Hey, is this one of those Scottish cattle things?" Juice asked, patting the yak's shoulder as he walked around and around him like the big, hairy animal was a used car Juice was interested in buying.

"Nope, it's not a cow at all," Chucky was the first to answer, smiling at his armful of squirming puppies who all competed to see which little fur-ball was going to be the first to lick Chucky's face and then looking over at Juice. Chucky was working out really well at the rescue, despite his limitations; his hands prevented him from doing a lot of the bull work, and he didn't know much about animals, but it was clear that Chucky enjoyed being around them, and that was all it took to work here! "He's a yak," Chucky said, walking over towards Juice and setting the puppies down to run free and play, knowing they wouldn't go too far from him or Joss.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll wake up tomorrow and have a herd of cows…" Lauren's exasperation was ever present and she started shaking her head again. "Really Joss, what were you thinki—" but Lauren's question was cut short by a barrage of honking and flapping wings as the flock of nine geese that had arrived sometime yesterday after Joss had left for lunch came gallivanting noisily over the hill and passed the riding arena, heading down to where they'd heard all the people noise, hoping to be fed again. It was exactly the wrong time for the geese to come tottering proudly through like little marching Highlanders, but Joss couldn't help but smile. They were such pretty geese, the pure white Bremens towering over the shorter, fatter American Buff's who were only pure white on their feathered little hind ends, the rest of them such a lovely, dusky brown, but both breeds had bright orange bills and feet. The geese marched on, waddling side to side with every confidence, even when no one extended a hand full of the cracked corn that Joss had to go out for before she'd left for the day yesterday. When no food was presented, the goose parade just kept moving proudly on, honking away, down towards the field where Skip, Marcus and Sam all grazed, every toddling, little, feathered, white goose butt shuffling along and none of them looking back, like whatever the humans were going on about wasn't their problem. Joss was afraid to look away from the geese and back at Lauren…but she did anyway…and yeah, it was a bad idea…Lauren's face was nearly as pure white as a goose's ass. "Geese?" Lauren yelled like her head was going to cave in. "Are you kidding me? Do you know how much noise they make?"

"Lar, come on, you've got to give me the benefit of the doubt on that one," Joss insisted, trying to step out from at least a little bit of the blame…but she didn't exactly wish Tig were here this time…she loved Tig, he kept her safe and straightened shit out fast, but he wasn't exactly the calming, focused influence that Joss really needed here at the moment…calm and focused…yeah, Joss was sure that's how Tig would be on their date night with Juice and Lauren and hopefull Ope and Verda…thoughts of whether that really was a good idea still haunted Joss a bit, taking Tig into a restaurant could be a bigger train wreck than…well, Lauren's homecoming…but that was another problem to be dealt with later. "The geese could have been flying over and decided to land here." Joss defended, but not haughtily so, just stating facts.

"Their wings are clipped!" Lauren yelled, her eyes bulging a little as she pointed down the hill towards where the flock had wandered off, mixing in with the 'gossip girls,' despite the obvious distaste and chagrin of the six Plymouth Barred Rock hens.

"Hey, dude!" Juice's startled laugh cut the drama once more, Joss looking up to see Chucky laughing at how the big, black yak was shoving Juice forward with his big, wet, black, yak nose. "You're snottin' all over my ass! Why you doing that? I thought we were cool!"

It was easier to focus on Juice, and it was funny, but now was no time to laugh or even smile. "That's my fault. He's used to me having peppermints in my pockets for the horses." And Joss looked back at Lauren, trying to be there for her too while her friend melted down…but hoping that wouldn't actually happen…but it was close. "We need to get some pens built, but it'll work out, I promise!" Said Joss, hoping to see some of the color return to Lauren's face…there was far more to things than a yak, puppies and some geese!

"Build pens?" Lauren repeated and sounded almost like one of those mad scientists in cartoons with their hair all frazzled and stuck up in the air. "And how are we going to do that? We just spent our money on extra acreage and fencing for horses! How in hell are we—" Lauren's logical and responsibility fueled rant was cut short by the darkest of the five Malamute puppies suddenly grabbing her boot lace and growling fiercely as he gave it a good yank, still pulling on it, the black stripe down the top of his white muzzle wrinkling, white paws dug into the ground, his deep brown eyes crinkled shut within the black shading over them, little fuzzy ears that were white on the front and black on the backside, just like the rest of his back, laid down against his head…he was serious about taking out that boot lace…but Lauren wasn't. "Stop that!" She demanded of the baby dog with a sharp jerk of her knee, but she was very careful not to kick or bump the puppy…but Lauren did glare back at Joss, not sparing much anger there, trying to remember where she was in what she was putting to Joss.

"Hey buddy, you like gum?" Again Juice's happy lilting voice cut the tension, and this time Lauren turned and scowled at him where he still stood with the yak.

"Juice!" she grunted, almost as well as Tig did, and Juice sighed and looked up at her, but didn't leave the side of his new yak friend.

"Well I don't have any candy to give him," Juice explained, hooking a big, muscled, tattooed arm around the yak's neck casually and sort of leaning on him…the yak was so calm, so accepting of everyone…Joss's heart hurt for him, why would anyone dump an animal as wonderful and kind as that?

"Just…stop!" Lauren ordered him in much the same way Joss had heard her yell at him to stop "clucking" the day Lauren had called Joss about having thirty-nine horses…what a morning…poor Lauren, she really had been though a lot! Lauren sighed heavily at Juice and then turned back towards Joss. "We cannot do this, Joss! We are barely set up for all these horses! And now we've got a yak, and puppies and geese? This isn't going to work!"

And then Joss sighed, but not in frustration…she felt badly, she felt like she'd ruined the rescue, all this had happened on her watch. There wasn't going to be a good way to tell Lauren about this, but this really wasn't going well!

Chucky looked over at Joss and sighed a little himself, feeling so sorry for her, but not leaving her alone to take all the blame. "Hey Lar, I was on duty up at the front when the puppies came in…that's on me. Sorry, I just couldn't refuse them, the owner was going to take them to the pound, and you know what happens there more than half the time! They were just all so happy and bright eyed and full of life, wanted to run and wrestle with each other…I just couldn't let them end up in the pound and have 'that' happen to them."

Joss looked over at Chucky and nodded her thanks to him, but ultimately, this was all on her and she knew it…so did Lauren. But Joss had to try to make this better; there were some good things that they hadn't even gotten to. "We've really got a great barn manager in Hayley," she said to Lauren. "In her first week, trust me, she's seen a lot and I've asked her to do some really strange things that go way beyond horses, and she's never so much as twitched an eyebrow."

"Great," Lauren replied, but she'd put her hands on her hips and didn't sound at all happy about that news. "Fantastic!" She said again flatly, but then leaned over towards Joss with that look on her face again…for being so short, Lauren really could be a spitfire! "We've got a good barn manager. One barn manager! Plus the two of us! That's three of us against the entire animal kingdom!"

Joss sucked in a ragged breath, her punch having not landed the way she'd hoped. Okay, easing into this wasn't working at all…might as well just hit her with it, get it over with…if Lauren's head exploded…well, there were plenty of paper towels in the tack room. "Lauren, try to calm down…I mean, you're making me really nervous! I'm not even sure I want to tell you about the four adult dogs, seven cats, the Potbellied Pig, two alpacas and the emu." Oh God…that did sound like a lot…Lauren was going to…and then she did…

"Holy shit!" Lauren bent nearly to her knees like she was about to collapse, but she didn't, and it gave Joss hope…even if it was pretty clear that Lauren had lost her mind. "An emu? Are you kidding me? An emu?"

Oh no…Joss folded her hands behind her back and kind of scuffed the toe of her tall boot over the ground. "I can explain," she said, like she was a sixteen year old whose parents had arrived home early from their trip only to find their house engulfed in some teenage orgy of partying and alcohol.

"Can you?" Lauren asked, still shaking her head and seeming like she was just hovering there instead of standing on her own feet, and then her face turned red and she blew like a volcano. "You cannot explain an emu, Joss!"

"Yeah, cool! Check these out!" Juice was in yak-land, he hadn't noticed any of the strife between the girls or how overwhelmed and crazy his new wife was. He was far too enamored of the yak, having given up on the gum idea but now standing in front of the big, shaggy haired, black animal, both of Juice's strong hands gripping the tall, "U" shaped horns sticking out of either side of the yak's head. The yak's horns bent outwards a bit at the top, pointing away from his big, hairy body, and that's right where Juice's hands were wrapped. "They're like ape hangers!" Juice laughed, clutching the yak's horns like handlebars and even adding a raspberry like sound effect of engine noise.

"Juice!" That time both Lauren and Joss looked at Juice and yelled in unison, their voices like an ominous wave crashing over Juice's happy yak fascination; Joss not really sure what Lauren's motivation was, but her own had been because she wasn't sure if grabbing the yak's horns was going to put him in fight mode…but apparently it hadn't…and Juice let go as soon as the girls had jumped in on him, looking like a sulking two year old, but there wasn't time to console him...though Chucky stepped up to try to, leaving Joss to turn back to Lauren and try…try try try…to make her see all of this chaos in a different light.

"Look," Joss said on a sigh and cocked her hip, one hand on it, trying to look casual and un-offended…which really she wasn't…she just felt badly about hitting Lauren with all of this, and for not having figured out how to stop it from happening. "This isn't what we planned for, I know, and I'm really sorry that every time you turn around, there's one more thing that we don't have the money, or time, or man power to take care of….but…" Joss paused, her thoughts suddenly going back to Tig again and their coming date and how he'd finally understood what it really meant, both to her and eventually, to Ope too…maybe, just maybe it wouldn't go too badly, just like this rescue situation maybe wouldn't either. "But every one of the animals here is here because they had no place else to go, and they need to be with people who will care about them, really and truly care and do what's best for them," Joss's eyes scanned over the pouncing, playing puppies, then the yak and over all the horses in the quarantine field, then back at Lauren. "And isn't that who you and I are?" She asked, pausing again and looking around at the farm itself. "Isn't that why we started this place?"

Author's Note: Thank you again for reading and for reviewing, and for getting involved in this story enough to make me able to continue on with it! It will end, and we're getting closer, but I would have given up awhile back if not for the generous and much valued support of my reviewers! Thank you all!

Also, I have two charter presidents from two other clubs staying at my house tonight through probably Friday, so I apologize in advance if I do not get a chapter posted on Thursday. I'm trying my best to do so, though! But I didn't want to just leave you guys hanging and wondering what the hell happened to me. Cross your fingers that I can get Chapter 98 finished by nightfall!

And lastly, once again the Tijo photo album is updated again and is still accessible via the link in my profile page. Just thought maybe some of you might like to see some of the animals that have ended up at the rescue, as well as another sultry Tijo pic! Thanks again for all you guys do for me! I couldn't write without you! - Grace


	98. BFF

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 98

"So it didn't go well?" Another day, another late lunch with Joss, but that was still okay, Tig didn't mind being alone with her for forty-five minutes on the warped and paint peeled picnic table behind the garage, it was sort of feeling like their "spot" now, and she did have a point about having their time together be something that might require more effort than they usually put into it. But having a "spot" seemed like a step in the right direction; Tig meant everything he'd said to her, here, on this table, yesterday, he was with her because he really couldn't make himself not want to be, so he'd do whatever it took to have time to be with her. He'd never been much on church or God; being with Joss was like a Sabbath though, he was her God and she was his angel, every ounce of her held some kind of salvation Tig knew he'd never find anywhere else, no matter how long he looked. He needed to be with that damn girl; no one had an old lady like her, no one…and that was because there was no other girl out there like Joss, none. She was special in so many ways, and all of them were worth making time for…even if knowing he felt like that, and thought of her that way, and was even going out, on a fucking date with her, did raise literal welts on Tig's skin, like he was not just adverse to, but actually allergic, to all this shit. But it didn't matter right now, Joss once again looked run down, but this time Tig knew why and wasn't worried about anything…except for her and that big horse…he still hadn't figured out how to fix that one, but he was going to.

"Well," Joss sighed and set her silver aluminum take out container of spinach salad on her lap…spinach salad…she was eating it and Tig had managed to have it ordered without Opie having any knowledge of it this time! "It actually went better than I thought it might, Lauren didn't cry or faint or completely wig out or anything…but no, she didn't take all the new animals well at all…it was kind of a disaster in a sense."

"In what sense?" Tig asked, ready to add yet another item to his "fix it list." Hob-bitch was cool and all, but if she wasn't on board, Tig would get her that way.

"In the sense that Lauren's sorry she ever met me." Joss answered but laughed a little bit, which was good, but then she slumped and ended up leaning against Tig's shoulder again, and that wasn't so good. "But…she and Juice are going out with us, so I guess she's not totally wanting me dead."

"Hey," Tig grunted at her, looking sideways at her through a slanted eye. "Don't talk like that, gets things jumping around in me that don't gotta be turned on for real." He warned, and that was the truth…protecting Joss was just the same as protecting this club, and Tig tolerated very little insult or danger to either one.

"Sorry," Joss replied quietly, and sat up again, returning to her salad…salad…good call on that one…and it was Tig's call, not Opie's call! Ha! "It's really been a tough week, but I'm really glad I've been able to have a few moments with you midway through the day." Joss smiled, but Tig didn't smile back…fact was that some of those things jumping around him had been turned on, in their mildest forms, but still, they were demanding some kind of satisfaction now.

"How's that big horse?" He asked point blank, looking at her sternly so that Joss knew not to try to smile her way around the question.

"Fine," she said, shrugging her shoulders in an "I'm innocent" kind of way. "But I haven't worked with him at all today, if that's what you're asking."

Tig exhaled and shook his head, was quiet a minute, already feeling the tension rising in Joss as soon as he'd mentioned that big horse. Time to start fixing this now; Joss wasn't going to be afraid of that horse, he wasn't going to allow her to be. "We're going to work through that shit, you know, baby." He informed her, but looked out across the lot, purposefully aloof.

"Okay," Joss accepted but said it like he wasn't making sense, and Tig knew why, didn't need for her to spell it out, but then she did. "But how are 'we' going to work on that? You don't know anything about horses."

"Joss," Tig turned back to her, his voice sharp even though he hadn't meant for it to be, but he hated knowing anything scared her. "I don't gotta know shit about horses, cuz I know everything about you." Joss was still, clearly impressed with what he'd told her, and then Tig added to it, reaching over and catching her under her chin like he usually did, drawing her closer and forcing her eyes to meet his. "You want to go out…on some fucking date thing, and I want you okay with that damn horse…so it's going to happen."

Joss nodded, looking at him like she understood how this was going to be good for her, but there was more to it than just that as Tig suddenly realized. He didn't want Joss to adapt Gemma's traits of telling everyone to go to hell, that didn't look right on Joss, but there was more to it than making Joss realize just how much in charge Tig was, particularly where Joss herself was concerned. Besides, Joss knew that, she trusted her old man blindly, never doubted him, just handed her heart over to him and let Tig lead…but once in awhile, it would really be nice if the faith that Joss had in him didn't have to be so blind. This stupid "date" was one thing…she did want that…but helping her get over her fears with that big horse was an even bigger thing. Joss had to know that Tig was always there for her, always watching out for her, even when he wasn't around her…he had to show her that he would and could make sure their time together didn't get sacrificed, and if he could help her through this horse thing, then he knew she'd understand that, she'd have a guarantee from him.

"I love you," Tig felt her whisper more than he heard it, realizing then that he'd pulled her even closer and kissed her, the words slipping through Joss's lips as his parted from hers long enough to draw another breath, but then he kissed her again, his hand leaving her chin to press to the back of her head and pull her even closer, Joss more in his lap now, straddling one of his thighs. The tight riding breeches allowed him to practically feel her skin through them, his other hand holding her by the thigh, his fingers so forcefully eager at her flesh that indentations marked the black spandex. She was a beautiful girl, but there was so much more to her, she was his angel, and he'd always want to be with her…now…he wanted to be with her now! His hand moved up her thigh quickly, around her back, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of her breeches, his cock throbbing a little harder and a little harder as his fingers sank deeper and deeper, pushing themselves more and more between her fine-looking ass and the fabric that covered it. Joss's body jumped and trembled against his in excitement, her hips sliding down his thigh and suddenly thrusting hard against his crotch, Tig's cock spasming madly and he groaned deep in his chest, jerking her body violently even more upon his. "Here?" She breathed hotly passed his ear as his teeth closed around the white skin of her neck, sucking and biting, the taste of her skin making his cock harden into a tight ball of meat against his thigh; he wanted the taste of her, wanted to feel his now hairless upper lip wet and slick with the elixirs of her sweet, tight pussy…"here" Tig thought, not wanting to pull away from her, or give up what he held of her in his mouth long enough to answer, he'd just show her…yeah, it was good to have a "spot."

And then the heavy, blue, metal, backdoor of the garage bumped open and squeaked, ending everything good that was just starting to rise…damn, he was going to need a few minutes to settle this down, or walk away with swelled up, sore balls. Tig growled, pulled Joss back to him for one last biting kiss, but let her go ultimately, knowing who it was that interrupted them…but it wasn't really like fucking her on the rickety old picnic table was the best option anyway…if the damn thing didn't collapse, Joss would end up with splinters in her ass.

"Shit!" Sure enough, Ope was the one standing in the now open doorway…big surprise…he'd already asked Tig if Joss was coming by for lunch today, apparently Chewbadooba wanted to talk to her…though he hadn't asked permission to yet…but, what the hell…not granting it meant Tig got to be the one whom Opie asked a million Joss questions to. "Sorry," Ope was saying now, Joss climbing out of Tig's lap, her eyes holding onto his with longing and disappointment shining in them like fever, but she smiled a little…they'd pick this up again tonight.

"What is it, Ope?" Tig grunted, as if he didn't already know, then laid back on the picnic table top and groaned a little, waiting for everything that had been turned on to turn off again.

"Okay if I talk to her for a sec?" Ope asked and indicated Joss with a nod of his head.

"You already said enough to ruin everything," Tig groaned again, not even trying to look up at Ope or Joss for that matter…damn it, his and Joss's time was already being stepped on! "Go ahead; three minutes…over by the fence." And Tig pointed to the place he'd meant, no more than ten feet away; yeah, Opie could talk to Joss, but Tig wasn't going to let him disappear anywhere with her…not that he didn't trust Joss, or even Ope really, but it just didn't look good for him or for Joss if she was going off with men that weren't her old man; didn't matter why.

The higher up in rank Tig advanced, the more important shit like that became…and hey, he was doing this for Ope too…Ope was the SAA, there were tons of protocols to be observed and followed for him now…shit…Tig had Joss's horse problem to fix and Ope to school on how to be a good SAA! But, fine, Ope could talk to Joss…everyone talked to Gemma after all…but Tig didn't want Joss to be Gemma…shit…yet another problem to fucking deal with! Okay, Tig had given permission to Ope to talk to Joss, so now he just had to let Joss know who was in charge of this too. His hand found Joss's back from where he lay on the table, shoving at her. "Go," he told her without looking at her, "get, see what he wants."

Chapter 98; Part 2

She's got those marks all over her again, red, irritated looking imprints of Tig's teeth, and his fingers…she looks more like he was trying to strangle her, not make out with her…God, that was the one thing I really didn't have to see again! But other than rubbing at the angriest looking red dimples in her neck, Joss isn't calling attention to what I walked in on…or out on…whatever…it's really pretty gross…worse than walking in on your parents doing it, but for reasons more…bestial than familial.

"So, what's wrong?" Joss looks disturbed, like she really does think something is wrong, like I've given her that impression…well, maybe I have…but part of it has to do with seeing Tig and her trying to…slide into each other's skins through their mouths…I feel myself shiver at the thought, and the mental picture, which unfortunately isn't mental anymore. Jesus, what's next? Walking in on them actually…you know…alright, just based on what I've had to witness so far, thoughts of it going any further are making my stomach kind of queasy. But that's not the only reason I might seem a little…panicked…panicked? No, I'm not panicked…just…shit, yeah, I'm panicked!

I take a deep breath, wishing Tig had given us more space to talk in, he looks like a hibernating slug over there on the picnic table, but that doesn't mean he can't hear us. "I asked Verda out."

Joss's eyes react like the sun dawning over a new day, but then she freezes, holding her breath too. "And she said 'yes,' right?"

"Yeah," for some reason, I'm holding my breath too…but I know that's not exactly why I feel lightheaded. "She said 'yes.'"

Now Joss leaps into celebration, smiling broadly and cheerfully and laughing with so much joy for me. "Oh, Ope! That's wonderful! So, you're coming with us to…wherever," she asks and for a moment glances back over at her old man…whoa…so Tig's picking the place? Great! What have I gotten Verda into? 

"Yeah," I repeat and I can tell Joss is waiting for me to smile and be as happy as she is, curious why I'm not and even a touch pissed with me that I'm not…but I want to be…but now my brain is just on overload, and that's exactly why I wanted to talk to her…she knows Verda pretty well, and I haven't dated, for real, since…Donna. At the risk of sounding stupid, I look down at her, shrug a little and ask, "What do I do next?"

That breaks the smile on Joss's face and she looks up at me like she did when I asked her out…but before long, she's smiling again. "Um, you work out with Verda whether you're meeting her at her house or at…the place…and then you and her sit around with us and talk for awhile…you know, about what kind of movies she likes…" Joss tries not to laugh, but I can hear it creep into her voice just a tinge…but then, I'm probably overly sensitive to that right now, so I could have picked it out of anywhere. Joss smiles again and one more time tries not to laugh, adding, "and try not to be 'weird.'"

"I'm certain that Tig will have that market cornered," I hear myself say, and that wasn't something I'd meant to say out loud…but I'm so fucked up right now. "Sorry," I quickly follow, but it's okay, Joss is laughing again, which does help me to calm down this time. I sigh, lean against the fence. "And I know what to do on the date part," I clarify, not yelling or annoyed the way Tig would have been with her, because I do realize that I wasn't saying exactly what I meant. "I mean…I've never gone out with a doctor before…so…I'm asking you…because…and I know you really don't like anyone to bring it up, and I'm sorry I am, but Joss, you have to admit, you come from a level of society more closely related to the one Verda's been living in…so, what do I do?"

Joss stands back, taking a good look at me, thinking hard…I'm afraid of what she's going to say…but she doesn't say anything. Instead she rises up on the toes of her horse riding boots and then pulls off my black skull cap and stares at me further. "You trim up some of that scruff."

"What? No, I mean what do I say to keep her interested in some…biker?" Jesus, what am I doing going to someone who's never had a real date in her life for advice about my date?

"Opie," Joss sighs, shaking her head, but she's smiling as she hands me back my hat. "Verda likes you. That means you don't have to pretend. She knows what you are, she's seen it! She sat right next to you and watched you sew a Sergeant at Arms badge onto your cut. She's permeated our inner circle, and she still said she'd go out with you," Joss smiles again, but this time it's different, it's not laughing at me or with me, it's not even that she's proud of me…it's something sort of…hmm…familial. "Stop worrying and freaking out and just be you; that's who Verda's been dying to go out with since you showed up bleeding in her hospital." And then Joss sort of pats my arm, but then looks up at me and smirks a little. "But I'm serious about the hair!"

Chapter 98; Part 3

Tig wasn't trying to listen in on whatever it was Ope and Joss were discussing, but then again, he was, able to pick up maybe every other word if he strained to hear them, still laying on his back on the picnic table, one arm slung over his eyes to block out the sun while his crushing need to fuck Joss dissipated into more controllable little eddies that would keep churning until he got home to her. Whatever Ope had to talk to Joss about, Chupacabra's name kept coming up; okay, fine…Tig wasn't worried…or even half interested…the only thing that wouldn't let him just lay back in the sun and ignore their talking was that he couldn't get right with Ope and Joss having these little meetings…this was the second one…what the hell was that?

Heeled boots clopping and clicking across the cement garage floor distracted Tig's stressed ears and he contemplated sitting up now, knowing that Gemma was approaching, probably coming out to toss trash and or shredding from the office into the main dumpster that was also back here. Tig heard her step through the open doorway, but he didn't budge…missed out on fucking Joss and now he just didn't feel like moving, offering a polite "Hey, Gem" instead, his arm still over his eyes.

"So is this what we're paying you for?" Gemma stopped and smirked…Tig had heard her stop walking and he knew the looks on her face well, he didn't have to see her.

"Waitin'…for Joss," Tig answered and moved his elbow in the direction of where he knew Ope was still talking to her over by the fence. Really, what could Ope have to talk to Joss about that was so important, but something that could also be said only ten feet away from Tig? And what could Joss have to say back? Nothing scandalous was going on, Tig could tell that…but still, what the hell were they doing?

Gemma's boots clicked closer to the picnic table and then she stopped, her eyes obviously on Opie and Joss as they seemed to be getting to the core of whatever their discussion was about. "Hmm," Gemma said, Tig knowing how her lips pursed when she was about to make some kind of judgment, and that "hmm" prompted him to sit up…shit, what was Gemma about to say? "I think that works out good, don't you?" Gemma's eyes were on Ope and Joss, giving Tig a brief glance as she spoke.

Shit! This felt like a trap! This is exactly fucking why Tig didn't want Joss to be like Gemma! Everything that came out of Gemma's mouth was suspect…and sometimes she did have a great reason for being so hypercritical, but still…it was hard to take what she said as being what she meant at times…not good for the prez's old lady to always come off like that. Gemma was tough, Gemma had balls, and Gemma loved this club and all its members, but all her guardedness and aggressiveness made it hard for anyone to really talk to her if they needed to…Gemma was always the one making that move, making other people open up, but she never seemed to question why it was that she had to "make" them do it. But all the same, Tig loved her…but not the way he'd thought he did all those years before he'd met Joss. But Gemma's opinion did matter to him…particularly where it concerned Opie and Joss. "What works out good?" Tig asked, jerking to attention as he sat up on the tabletop, squinting in the sunlight he'd been hiding from, so ready for Gemma to show how sarcastic she was being and make some snarky little ass kicking comment…which she'd mean in the best possible way, of course.

"Joss and Opie," she said, her voice flowing and light…she was either being genuine or she was really about to ambush Tig.

And just then Tig watched Joss turn away from Ope and come running past him, the picnic table and Gemma at a half jog. What the fuck now? "Hey," Tig interjected, freezing Joss in her tracks just as she passed Gemma. "Where you going? I said over by the fence!"

"I need to get scissors from the office." Joss answered, looking happy and somehow satisfied, hiding nothing.

"What the hell for?" Really, were Joss and Ope going to start cutting out those paper things that looked like a bunch of short, fat bitches holding hands? Why'd she need scissors? Was she going to cut him, was that it? Ope step out of bounds? No…that's not what it was…there was nothing about Joss and Ope and the scissors that was putting Tig on beat-down alert. So…why scissors?

"I'm going to even up Opie's hair, you know, trim it a little." Joss smiled and her eyes were on Ope, on his hair.

Now Gemma smiled, even nodded, but Tig wasn't taking that a blessing just yet. Joss was cutting Ope's hair? That's what Ope wanted to talk to her about? This was fucking stupid! Ope was seeing Joss for a haircut? "Why you doin' that?"

Joss sighed, cocked her head at Tig and raised one eyebrow. "Have you seen it?" She asked, like the state of Ope's hair was something that routinely appeared on the nightly news.

"Middle drawer," Gemma took over…like she normally did, smiling at Joss, proud that her "kid" was somehow doing a good thing…giving out charity haircuts or some shit, "Got a new pair in there that shouldn't be too dulled up by cutting paper, blue handles."

"Thanks!" Joss smiled back at Gemma, but she did look to Tig again before continuing on with her task, waiting until he waved her off. Good, the girl listened to her old man over her "mother"…Joss was so not her "brother!"

"Jax is gone," Gemma said, immediately going back to where she'd left off before, but had to take a moment to get over her own words…which she wouldn't have done if she was snaking her way into making some point other than the one it sounded like she was making, Gemma showed no weakness in her ambushes. Tig relaxed a little, made room for Gemma on the picnic table beside him and Gemma accepted, dropping the office trash bag and climbing up beside him like he'd hoped, pulling out a cigarette that she'd tucked into her front jean pocket before coming out here. There was a time when Tig would have died to sit out here, behind the garage, and have a smoke with Gemma, just the two of them…and now everything was Joss…love was so much more passionate and extreme than whatever it was he'd always felt for Gemma. Gemma was quiet while she lit up, Tig not able to help becoming a little impatient…what was the queen really thinking about Ope and Joss? Gemma always steered things in the right direction, even if Tig didn't want Joss employing her methods for doing so. And then Gemma grew a little more serious than she had been, exhaled some smoke and looked levelly at Tig. "Ope needs a new best friend," Gemma said, her head tilting subtly between Opie standing at the fence and Joss running after those fucking scissors. Gemma smiled and then looked back at Tig. "And I think he's found one."


	99. Red Queen, White Queen

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 99

"Heard you have a big date," Gemma had returned to the office and was sitting there smirking, at her desk by the time Joss was finished with the scissors. Opie's hair was evened up and looking a little less like dread locks gone wrong…well, okay it wasn't quite that bad, but it did look a lot better if he were to take the hat off and let it loose. Joss just wasn't feeling him in the black, wool skull cap on this date with Verda, nor did she want Ope to not wear the skull cap but then twist his long, thick, brown hair up into that top-knot deal that always made him look like a big, white, 'gaijin' reject from some Sumo Stable…she hated it when he did that to his hair. So yeah…Joss smiled as she placed the scissors on Gemma's desk…cutting Ope's hair was a good thing, and Joss was glad she'd thought of it. Tig however…well, he seemed a little…Joss wasn't sure what the word was, but he was acting strange, but in a way that wasn't the usual Tig "strange;" he just kept repeating, "You cut his hair? You cut his hair?" like Ope was really Samson or something and Joss had just rendered Tig's future VP powerless.

"Well, it's not a 'big' date," Joss answered, but it was hard not to smile when she replied, she was so excited…but Tig wasn't…he'd just sort of laid down his arms and yielded to it, and Joss was trying to respect that. Come to think of it, that wasn't very "Tig" either. Tig was many things, and even though she could handle them all, sometimes Joss had to admit she could do without a few of them, but this strange new…idleness that made her man just lay there, almost asleep, while she and Ope had their little conference, and also agree to be checkmat-ed and dragged along on a date was sort of…eerie.

Gemma smirked again. "Any date with Tig is a 'big' date." She reminded, picking up the scissors and putting them away in her desk drawer again as Joss felt something kick her in the side…her 'date' with Opie…that Tig didn't know about, exactly. Panic over it suddenly attacked her, brief though it was, but it was the strangest and most sudden conglomeration of regret and shame that struck her…all when Gemma said Tig's name and then put the scissors away…the scissor's Joss had trimmed Opie's hair with, evened it up, the ragged ends were gone…Opie's hair was gone…there was no putting it back the way it was. What? What was all of this? Hmm…it was about Ope…but Joss hadn't done anything out of line with Ope…Tig had been there the whole time…at least he'd been there the whole time while Joss cut Ope's hair…but not when she and Ope had that date…hmm…but then Gemma cut in over Joss's looping thoughts. "So where are you making Tigger take you?"

"Making" him? Joss wasn't "making" him…no one could "make" Tig do anything…he couldn't even make himself do things…"I'm with you because I can't make myself not want to be with you," isn't that what Tig had told her? "Oh," Joss stammered a bit, felt like she'd rather be facing down that big blonde Belgian stallion than talking about this…hmm…no, not really. "No place, you know, notable. It's more about Ope and his new girl, anyway."

Gemma was nodding, about to say something, presumably about Ope's new girl…or Ope's hair, when a reprieve swiftly appeared, ringing on Joss's leg…her cellphone, still strapped into its Velcro holder that was banded around Joss's tall, black boot. She reached for her phone immediately, but remembered whose presence she was in. "Sorry," she offered to the queen, but Gemma only nodded for Joss to answer the call. Good…hopefully this was Lauren calling about an emu problem…that was more preferable to discussing the date…that Joss had been looking so forward to less than two minutes ago! She didn't even look at the call display on her phone as she picked it up, just flipped it open and put it to her ear, saying a hasty "hello" and bracing herself to hear Lauren falling apart…again.

"Hi, Joss!" Came a chirpy voice that was definitely not Lauren's. "Are you on a horse or anything right now?" Verda asked, sounding like she'd wished she'd considered that scenario before calling.

"No," Joss answered and stepped outside the office, already knowing why Verda was calling her and already feeling like she didn't want to talk about it…but she was happy for Verda, and Ope…but now this whole date felt…like a chess game…Joss wondering if she'd make it to other side of the board without being taken…but by what?

"Okay, good! I was hoping I'd catch you at lunch," Verda said and then Joss could hear the smile that spread over her face. "You'll never guess what finally happened!"

"Never guess?" Joss repeated, though she'd meant to keep that question to herself, but really…she'd never guess? And how did Verda think what "finally happened" happened to begin with? It was Joss who picked Verda up and set her on this chessboard too, so to speak!

"Opie!" Verda said his name like she was holding pom-poms and was going start with the whole "gimme an 'O!' Gimme a 'P!'" cheer thereafter, but of course she didn't. "Just when I was about to give up, he calls me and starts saying how sorry he was that he hasn't called me and…and…well, it was like this big…volcano of things, and he asked me out!"

Sure…a volcano did this. "That's great!" Joss tried to sound surprised, which left a certain degree of "Tony the Tiger" ring to her voice like in the commercials for Frosted Flakes. Joss had already had this conversation with Ope, back before this all felt so weird and, like it was all happening in some land 'through the looking glass,' or something. Joss was glad Ope had finally asked Verda out, she was glad that Verda had still said "yes," but she'd been the one fighting for Verda here…and now she was getting this call from her like Joss had been so out of that loop…and it was a little bit annoying…just like Tig's idleness, which wasn't him…why in hell did he let her cut Opie's hair if he was going to have such a damn problem with it after it was done? Hmm…what happened before that? Gemma…

"Isn't it?" Verda was still elated, sounded so unlike her usually cool, calm and collected self, but her attitude was more preferable to Opie's…clumsiness…it was like he'd asked Verda out and now he was so preoccupied with how to proceed that he couldn't so much as stay upright on his bike or something. "I'm so glad to have an official date with him," Verda said next, like maybe she was a little proud of herself, or like maybe she knew she had help after all. "I feel like Ope and I have been caught up in some 'I'll call you tomorrow, or I'll call you yesterday, but I'll never call you today' kind of thing for so long!"

Well, Joss couldn't disagree about that. "Yeah, thank heavens for 'volcanoes.'" She sighed, because if she didn't sigh, she might have sounded a little bit…left out.

Verda cracked up laughing on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, this only took a natural disaster," she was saying, and Joss smiled a bit too, because she was happy for Verda, Verda was her friend. "So come over soon so you can help me pick out what to wear!" Insisted Verda, and for some reason, that wasn't something that Joss wanted to ask Tig's permission to do…but she'd have to…and while Joss herself kind of wanted to go and help Verda find an outfit for her date, Joss was also afraid Tig would give up and agree to let her do that, but then be lost in some "you cut his hair" fog afterwards.

"Okay, I hope we can do that, we're sort of…drowning in animals at the rescue right now, so I can't make any promises." Joss warned, just incase Tig did become Tig again…she hoped he would.

"Oh, I understand," Said Verda, no suspicious malice in her voice, but there was a tinge of diffidence in her tone. "But I hope you can make it. I mean, I have no idea what to wear; I've never gone out with a guy like Opie before."

Joss rolled her eyes…not another one! But yeah, Ope and Verda belonged with each other, the same goofy stuff made them nervous. "Okay, I'll try!" She promised and could hear someone stepping closer to Verda at the hospital and saying "Dr. Napoli, could you look at these…" and that was the break Joss needed. "Hey, I'll call you back, you sound busy."

"Sorry!" Replied Verda, "but yeah, call me back! Gotta go, thanks again, Joss! Bye!" And the line clicked silent.

This was a weird date, and it hadn't even started yet. Joss flipped her phone closed and slid it back into the holster on her leg, turning to head back into the office and say goodbye to Gemma, rather than continue their conversation…Joss was done talking about the date…Tig was who she needed to talk to, she knew that much. But Gemma met her in the doorway, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, chin strongly jutting forward. "Opie's new girl?" The queen asked knowingly, smiling dryly.

"Yeah," Joss answered and felt a little cornered, like Gemma was about to give her advice that Joss shouldn't need to be given.

A cigarette appeared in Gemma's hand where Joss hadn't noticed one before and the queen took a slow puff, looking down at Joss from her heeled boots, examining her. "You're really getting to a whole other realm of things," she said, not disapprovingly, but more like she was informing Joss of the changes that were coming, but whether they were good or bad, Joss still couldn't tell and she began to wish Gemma would tell her…but Gemma wasn't a fortune teller…she was a Teller-Morrow, which held its own fortunes itself. Gemma had seen a lot, been part of a lot…if anyone knew just what was going on with this whole date thing, it was Gemma…and Joss could tell that she did know, too. But Gemma wasn't talking about that, at least not directly. She only pursed her lips a little and leaned down far enough to smooth Joss's hair on her head where the riding helmet had mussed it up. "I know you don't know what this means yet, but you will," Gemma told her, Joss astounded by how accurate what Gemma said was. How did she know that? But Gemma kept her secrets still, holding her palm to Joss's cheek now and about to pour out some bit of queenly knowledge, the tip of her cigarette glowing red. "But it takes an awful lot of running to stay in the same place."


	100. Tseb Sdneirf

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 100

"Which one do you want?" Joss was trying to talk to Ope quietly, but Tig could still hear every word they both said, no matter how far down the redwood table they sat from him. Dangling from Joss's lily white hand were two necklaces and she was offering one to Ope, holding one out after the other, asking him, "Peanut butter? Or Jelly?"

They were in the middle of church, the gavel in Tig's hand, but no one seemed to be taking notice of Joss and Ope, sitting down there at the other end of the table, having their own meeting, deciding which one of them was going to wear the necklace with the little clay piece of bread smeared with something tan in color, and which one was going to wear the matching necklace with a little clay piece of bread smeared with something purple. When the two little, clay bread pendants were stacked together, they formed a little sandwich, peanut butter and jelly…what went together better? Tig's fingers wrapped more around the gavel, ready to bang it on the table and shut them both the fuck up…this was church, God damn it! What was Joss even doing in the chapel? But church continued, Bobby talking about a run or something and Chibs and Hap and Juice agreeing, Clay…oh yeah, Clay wasn't here.

"I'll take jelly," Tig could hear Opie decide as he reached for and took the purple smeared, clay bread pendant from Joss then he smirked at her a little. "You can have peanut butter; you're the one that's nuts!"

Joss laughed that happy, free laugh that for some reason really cut in deep to Tig's veins and wrestled around in there until all of him was irritated. "If you two can't be quiet, I'm going to—"

"Tig, it's okay," Joss sighed, finally looking up from Ope as they both were hooking their new necklaces behind their necks. "I know, we were being kind of loud, but we'll keep it down now, I promise. Relax."

But Tig wasn't relaxing, not just yet. "Yeah," he grunted at her, "a little less talk and a lot more action," he said sternly next and then glared at both Ope and Joss, pointing his gavel at them. "That goes for both of you!"

"Sorry," It was Ope who spoke…of course…taking the hit for Joss…like she was his brother…but she wasn't…but she was sitting at the redwood table, at church…like she was a brother! What the fuck? How did that happen? Oh yeah…she'd followed Ope in, Ope said it was cool…God fucking damn him! But Joss should know better! What the fuck was wrong with her? Tig taught her better than that! He expected more from her! Jesus, didn't she know what he'd do to her for coming in here and talking over church? Hmm…yeah, she did…nothing. "It's my fault," Ope continued, looking at Tig. "She and I haven't gotten a chance to talk since…yesterday at lunch, so you know, we're just catching up."

Yesterday at lunch…yesterday at lunch…Ope's words kept running through Tig's mind like they were on a conveyor belt. "Joss and Opie," Gemma had said, sitting right beside Tig on the picnic table. "Ope needs a new best friend," she said, "I think he's found one." Yeah…Ope did need a new best friend…but…Joss? No! That was too fucking fucked up! How could Ope be "best friends" with any bitch he was still sort of in love, not all the way out of love, with? That couldn't work! Not to mention that the life didn't support that kind of shit! Men were men, women were women; they got together to fuck, not trade peanut butter and jelly necklaces!

Besides…what about Tig? Why the hell hadn't Ope looked to him when Ope was "best friend" shopping? Okay…okay…yeah, so maybe that was obvious…but still, for the good of the club, and Tig knew Ope understood all about "for the good of the club," why didn't Ope want Tig as a best friend? Tig could do it! They were president and vice president…they should be best friends…in at least some light, anyway. But no…Tig didn't get that nod, or that honor, from Ope…Joss did! Why'd Ope pick Joss? What? Was it the bread necklace, was that it? Ope didn't have anything in common with Joss! Other than being in love with her, but then, that wasn't exactly true either, because Joss didn't return those feelings for Opie…and Ope didn't know a damn thing about horses, and he wasn't vegetarian, he wasn't a genius, there was no spider monkey living in some craggy little cave that was deep inside him, Ope wasn't in love with Tig…thank-fucking-fully, Ope was never a beauty queen, Ope didn't paint his eyes black, Ope didn't…shit, like it mattered…Ope wanted Joss as his best friend, when it should have been Tig! God damn it!

But why Joss? Tig was Ope's brother! That made them closer than Ope and Joss ever would be! It was fine if Ope and Joss liked each other, in fact, Tig wanted them to, it would definitely make things easier…Ope was Tig's VP and the club needed Joss's support behind that…but best friends? No…as queen, Joss definitely did have a certain responsibility to any patch, but being their "best friend" wasn't it. One of the good things about the life is that it didn't blur the lines; women were respected…the ones that had earned it anyway, and that wasn't many of them, but chivalry reigned where those who were respectable were concerned…but one moronic choice of a best friend could really tear all of that down…make Tig look like he wasn't taking care of what was his, like she needed some sort of "supplemental" bullshit from Ope…and Ope, if he was hanging with a bitch, then he was going to eventually be treated like one, too. This wasn't good! The club needed Ope and the club needed Joss…but it didn't need them wearing those stupid-ass necklaces and…and…Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck were they doing now?

"Not too many," Joss was telling Ope, who was now reaching over with a small comb and separating out a strand of her long, silky, black hair and then threading a piece of elbow macaroni onto it…Joss had pasta all throughout her hair…so did Ope…what the fuck was this? What? Were they forming their own little club that Tig couldn't be part of? The Pastafarians? Did they have a tree house with a sign on the door that said "No Tig allowed?" God damn motherfucking shit! Why did they have to match each other? That was it…enough…the time had long since passed to put a stop to this shit! But just as Tig stood up to go down and yell his guts out at Ope and Joss, the chapel door opened and in stepped Sack, holding the day's mail.

"Excuse me, sorry, Tig," he said, realizing that church had been in session, but he stuck his arm out towards Tig, a purple chicken, wearing Ray-bans and red high topped sneakers, hanging upside down by the red high topped sneakered feet in Sack's fist, and the chicken was throwing some kind of gang sign viciously at Tig. Fucking chicken! "This came for you, looked urgent."

What? Wait! Why the hell was there a posse-ed up purple chicken wearing red high topped sneaks and Ray-bans? Oh…okay…because this was a fucking dream! Tig's eyes opened so fast for a moment he actually thought he saw himself sleeping, and he sat up in bed, looking around the room just to make sure he was really in it. There was his dresser, the closet, the door way, the doorway into the bathroom, Joss's dresser, and there was Joss, sound asleep next to him in the bed, looking so angelic and sweet…with…holy fuck…was that macaroni in her God damn hair?

And then something came over Tig that he was very acquainted with, something that Joss had never caused to come forth in him before…and Tig couldn't stop it…Tig loved her, but she and Ope were going to bring this club down…and besides…she stole Tig's best friend! God damn it! Tig heard himself growl and he had a knee on either side of Joss's body in no time, his fingers clenching tightly around her neck before he knew it, closing tighter and tighter, shaking her, and when her eyes opened and she struggled for breath, all Tig could do was blurt out, "That peanut butter and jelly was for me and Ope!"

"Tig!" Joss was yelling his name now, but how the hell was she doing that if he was strangling her? What? Jesus Christ, he was strangling her? He was strangling his sweet, dark, perfect angel? A black hole formed right where Tig's heart beat and he felt his soul get sucked right out of him, leaving him dizzy and so…hopeless…he was nothing…nothing…and he passed out, felt his body jar against the mattress, everything shook…but his eyes opened again…and there was Joss, perfectly healthy, looking so concerned about him, one of her slim pale hands was patting his shoulder with a very determined force, the other cupping and gently stroking his jaw. He wasn't strangling her? No, he was on his back…Joss was okay…it was another dream…within a dream…Tig fucking hated those! But whatever, Joss was okay! He took a long deep breath and let it out the same way.

"You with me, now?" Joss asked as she looked down at him, her hands gradually sliding away from him and the concern in her eyes lessening.

"Yeah," Tig half gasped, the muscles in his arms and hands finally relaxing, fingers straightening out again, sweat cooling on his skin…it was a stupid dream…really stupid…but Joss, God damn it…he couldn't deal with even dreaming of hurting her, never could. "You okay?" He asked her, almost afraid to move, even though she looked fine. "What I do?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she smiled; she was so perfect, she understood what his darkest fears were and she sat up a little straighter, moving her long, silky, black hair away to let him see her beautiful face and her pale neck, showing him her arms and her legs, all parts of her still pure white, no red marks, no bruises. "And I don't really know what you were doing. I woke up because you were screaming something about…peanut butter and jelly?"

"Shit," Tig mumbled, both his hands forming a tent of fingers over his face…fuck, so he'd really yelled that out fucking loud? Okay, whatever…Joss didn't know what the hell it meant…but Tig did…Tig always would…he had to break up this Joss and Opie club! But not now…all he really wanted to do was celebrate the fact that Joss was okay! "C'mere," one hand left his face to beckon her down, his arm closing over her and pulling her against his chest before she was even where he wanted her…but then he stopped a moment, "wait," he told her, making her freeze there at an odd angle between laying down and sitting up, and he couldn't help but run his fingers through her midnight, black hair…

"What?" Joss asked, more curious than concerned this time…but then, Tig didn't play with her hair, yeah, what he was doing was weird…really weird…checking for elbow macaroni…but, there was none…of course there wasn't!

"Don't worry about it," he told her and once again began to pull her down to him, his fingers leaving her dark tresses. "We're good." Yeah, they were…well, they would be…as soon as this BFF Opie and Joss thing was handled…but Joss probably didn't even know that's where she was headed with Ope…hmm…probably Ope didn't either, but somehow, Tig and Joss had gotten twisted around into the wrong places, and that was going to fuck things up really fast…yeah, Tig had to fix this! Hmm…there was no purple gangsta chicken out there looking to bust a cap in Tig's ass…good.

"You sure about that?" Joss smiled a bit as her head came to rest on his shoulder. "You okay?" and her hand reappeared on his face, softly tracing along his eyebrow; she'd listen if he wanted to talk about it…but Tig didn't, and Joss knew that…because she was perfect! But Tig would be talking to her about this one eventually…yeah…they'd talk about it…they had a lot of shit to cover too.

Hmm…and what about some of that shit? Tig was still so relieved and overjoyed that Joss and Ope hadn't become Pastafarians, and that she was okay, that he couldn't fight the urge to stroke his hand over her head a few times, petting her like she was something so precious…but then, she was. But, his mind wouldn't rest, part of him wanted to talk…now. "Yeah," he told her, because he was "okay," or at least he was as "okay" as he could ever get…except for one thing…one thing that Tig was going to have to figure out, but knew he couldn't on his own. He looked down at Joss…his beautiful, sweet, dark angel…with no macaroni in her long, black hair…she could help him; he knew she could. "Hey," he began, part of himself not believing he was even asking this, but he was; he had to. "How'd you get Ope to like you?"


	101. Worms

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 101

"Remember, they kick out frontwards and can slice you open from bellybutton to knee," Joss still understood Lauren's dissatisfaction with all these new animals, and her annoyance that Joss wasn't as panicked over them being here as Lauren was herself, but did there have to so much cruel happiness to Lauren's voice as she reminded Joss of the dangers from outside the pen that the girls, and Juice…and the yak, had managed to get together for the emu? Dr. Forpaw had recommended worming the big, flightless bird, but Joss, nor Dr. Forpaw, had enough of the suggested oral Ivomec paste on hand during the vet visit to worm a one-hundred-forty pound bird, but thanks to a livestock catalog, now Joss and Lauren did…and Lauren had assigned Joss the task of running around trying to catch the silly, spooky bird…with giant, black, three-pronged claws that could slash Joss's guts out with one flex of its forward bending knee. This was punishment for letting Noah pick the ark up and shake its contents down onto Lauren's farm…Joss knew it was…but really, did Lauren half to sound so delighted about it? But there wasn't time to get mopey now, Joss had to catch the emu…the six foot tall emu that kept running in circles and circles, always a good two emu strides ahead of Joss…but then Joss was trying to catch the bird while she also held up a big, flat piece of plywood in front of herself to guard against the bird's kick…but all the plywood was really doing was being cumbersome…too cumbersome to catch the bird. Damn it…Joss threw the plywood down…this wasn't working this way, she was choosing results over safety now…mainly because it was nearly time to leave to go meet Tig for lunch. Besides, even though the feet were the dangerous end of the emu, Joss wasn't very concerned about the big bird kicking her and disemboweling her…what freaked her out was at the other end…the beak.

"What if I just go up and try to grab him and hold him down?" She stood in the center of the pen now, hands on her hips as she caught her breath, the big fluffy feathered gray bird relaxing, ambling around, it's long black and teal colored neck reaching to the ground to nonchalantly peck at whatever caught its interest, looking nothing like the demonic force that was all scimitar like claws and snapping beak whenever Joss managed to get him into a corner. Running up to him and throwing her body at him was really kind of…chilling…but Joss was out of ideas, and lunch time was coming, she had to meet Tig no matter what…even if it meant sacrificing herself to Steve. Joss and Lauren had decided to call the emu "Steve," after Steve Irwin, 'The Crocodile Hunter,' because both the emu and Steve Irwin were Australian, and Joss loved Steve Irwin…but his namesake emu was really starting to get to her in ways Joss didn't like feeling.

Lauren stood on the outside of the fence, a syringe full of a couple cc's of Ivomec ready to go, as soon as Joss caught the bird, but she was already shaking her head in response to Joss's new idea, though her smugness was gone now. Watching Joss chasing the big bird into every corner, try to block him in with the plywood only, to have him come leaping over the plywood and running away full tilt must have been penance enough. Good, because Joss couldn't take it anymore…why was she having so much trouble with animals lately? It started with the big, blonde Belgian stallion and now it was like they all hated her…or like she was afraid of them all? No, she loved animals! Joss didn't like to think about being afraid of them! She just looked back at Lauren, hoping her friend, and rescue business partner, had something stellar, and positive, to say regarding the emu catching situation, or was about to call it off…yeah, try again tomorrow…or the day after that? But defeat wasn't showing yet on Lauren's face, just caution. "That sounds good, but he's got four or five inches on you and probably about twenty pounds too," Lauren replied, biting her lip a little. "I don't know a lot about these guys, but I don't like those stats."

But it was almost lunch time! They had to catch this dumb Aussie bird somehow and get him wormed so Joss could get on the road! Her man was expecting her…and after going out on that date with Opie, that Tig didn't know about all the way, Joss had vowed to herself that she'd never ever step out of line in even the slightest little fashion ever again! What she'd done hadn't hurt anyone…because Tig didn't know…but if he did know…oh God…that could bring some major Tig-crazy down on her and Opie! Tig needed Ope, Joss didn't want to ruffle any feathers there, which made dating Ope a particularly stupid idea…God damn hindsight! Where was it when it was useful? But besides Ope, Joss really didn't want any problems between her and Tig. She couldn't live with Tig being mad at her, particularly when his being mad at her stemmed from her hurting him somehow…that stupid date, that wasn't even a real date, with Ope was a betrayal…didn't matter what she tried to call it or how she tried to justify it. But right now it hadn't hurt anyone, except for herself…there was a black mark on her previously spotless record…and it stuck out at her like a canker sore. Tig…she wanted Tig again! But now it was different…now she had to make Tig see how much she wanted to be with him, what it meant to her to love him; she wanted to show him as much as she could, everything he meant to her…maybe if she did it enough, it would somehow erase ever having had that date with Ope? Ope…Tig let her cut his hair? Tig was going on a date with her, his own wife, in two more days! Why was her man so complacent all of a sudden? Something was off with both of them, things had become…unnatural, for them at least, and Joss wanted it fixed. But right now, there was a scary, six foot tall, black necked, teal throated, fire eyed bird preventing the work she really needed to be doing; Tig…Tig was everything and everything was Tig. The emu could really mess her up, and Joss wasn't looking forward to this, but…Tig…everything was Tig. "I've faced tougher opponents," Joss decided as she sized up her large, sharp toed, feathered, nearly dinosaur like, competition…but God was she scare—no, she wouldn't even let herself think that…no matter how true it was.

"Joss," Lauren was laughing a little bit now. "You can't just run up to Steve and tackle him," she said and was now leaning against the fence, the Ivomec syringe in her shirt pocket and her work glove covered hands laying one on top of the other where they rested on the top rail. "You wig out every time he comes at you with that beak and nips," she laughed again, the stupid emu hearing the sound and taking interest, wandering slowly over towards Lauren to see what she was about. "Hey, tall man," she almost cooed to the big bird and reached one gloved hand up towards his face on purpose, not surprised and not flinching when Steve immediately went at her fingers with his beak, tugging at the glove in a series of quick jerks. "See?" Lauren smiled at Joss. "There's no strength to the 'bite,' if you can even call it that; I don't know why you act lik—"

But Joss cut Lauren off with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, there's no strength to it until he grabs your eyeball!"

And Lauren returned with a sigh of her own, looking at Joss and shaking her head. "Okay, you have watched way too much 'Kill Bill!'"

Joss cocked her head and rocked one hip out, staring at Lauren and shaking her own head, but before Joss could respond to that, there was the low rumble of wrapped pipes and thunderhead exhaust, a sound Joss knew by heart, her head jerking up in surprise before she even saw Tig's bike bumping along the gravel driveway over to where her truck was parked. Oh God, was she late for lunch and he'd come looking for her? Shit! But…no…that couldn't be it, she still had an hour before it was time to leave for the garage when they started chasing Steve around and they'd been only at that for a half hour, maybe…so if Joss wasn't late, what was Tig doing here? He looked calm, not rushed or distracted by something, not yanking his helmet and glasses off and throwing them down or anything; he just easily hooked his helmet over the drag bars and then tucked his shades inside it, swinging his leg over the bike casually. Okay…he wasn't angry or upset about anything; he was just…here…why? But standing inside the enclosure with the dopey emu wasn't where Joss should be right now if Tig was here. With a running start she dashed towards the fence around the emu's pen, pushing her body up and over it with one hand, her tall boots hitting the ground running on the other side of it as she took off towards her man, Lauren walking along behind her.

"Tig," Joss called, he hadn't looked her and Lauren's and Steve's way, and wanting to do everything right by him from now on, Joss wanted to save him from having to wander around the barn, tack room and farm looking for her. At the sound of her voice his broad shoulders pivoted her direction, and when he saw her, he almost smiled…like it was his first reaction…and smiling because he saw her never used to be his first reaction…yeah, this was so unnatural for them!

"Hey," he called back, closing the distance between them and giving Lauren a nod as he did, but then focusing back on Joss, who was now close enough to reach out and touch…and he did…snagging her with his arm and pulling her into his side. "How's it going?" And then he bent down enough to kiss the top of her head…what was he doing? So much affection, in the presence of someone else, and Tig didn't seem like he had to think about whether it was alright or not, or warm up to the idea of "opening up."

Joss had too many questions to answer his. "What are you doing here?" She looked up at him, starred up really, trying to see if there was some physical cause for how he was acting lately…maybe he wasn't feeling good and it was making him…reliant?

Her man's expression changed; hardened a little like there was something he wasn't going to tell her. "I told you we were going to work on your horse problem, didn't I?" But there was more to why Tig had come to the barn instead of letting Joss go to the garage…hmm…what was at the garage that Tig didn't want her around? But…what did he say? He was here for her "horse problem?" Oh no…

"Tig," Joss smiled, didn't want to seem ungrateful, but she'd just been battling it out with Steve, who she'd been surprised hadn't somehow slit her throat open with his giant, black claws…or grabbed her eyeball and yanked it out…Joss didn't have facing down the big horse in her. "It's okay, it'll work itself out over time, you don't have to—"

"Bullshit, Joss!" The sharp, mean tone of his voice resonated inside Joss's chest, and she welcomed the affront. Tig's arm that had pulled her to him and curled around her waist tightly slipped free and he bowed up, stepping around in front of her, arctic blue eyes leveling a stare that left no room for argument. "You said yourself that you 'backed down' from him, and that ain't you! I can tell when you're scared, baby, and you're scared! And I know where that leads to, and we're not fucking going there, so quit fucking arguing with me and let me help you!"

By the time he finished talking Joss was more scared than anything, but she was smiling…smiling brightly, because this wasn't idleness, this wasn't complacency…this was Tig! She didn't know what to say to that, but then, she wasn't supposed to say anything, she just looked up at him, her eyes on his, watching whatever was pissing him off seethe and slither through him, Tig's stare holding her still like he'd chained her to the ground…this was the captive type of comfort Joss had been missing! But it didn't make her want to go work with that big Belgian anymore than she did since she'd brought him into the barn for Dr. Forpaw…but her man, her real man, was showing signs of life!

"Hi Tig," Lauren had finally reached them, her voice was almost like a rock shattering a sliding glass door, breaking the intensity that was burning between Joss and her man, but something had to. Tig turned towards Lauren with a jerk, Joss half worrying about how he was going to react to her now, being that she'd startled him, but Tig shook off the growl that was building in his throat…but at least it had been building!

"Lar," Tig replied, moving away from Joss a little, but his strong hand clamped down on Joss's shoulder, gripping it like a hawk's talons, like he wanted Joss know there was no getting away from this horse thing…or him…which was so wonderful! "I'm taking her for awhile, something we gotta work on." He informed her, didn't ask, just put it to Lauren that Joss was all his until he said otherwise…and Joss smiled again…until she realized that Tig was only "taking her" to see the big, blonde stud.

"Okay," Lauren smiled; she knew not to try to get anything away from Tig, but she also wasn't done talking, looking at Tig now with an idea coming to her. "Hey, if you've got time, and wouldn't mind, think you could hold down the emu for us? We need to get meds in him, to protect from parasitic infection, but neither of us are strong enough to hold him still. But you are; all you need to do is grab him and sort of push him down into the ground so he can't move his feet enough to kick us."

What? Joss couldn't believe Lauren was asking Tig to help like this…but this was Tig's thing, Joss was nowhere in his decision…and he actually looked like he was thinking it over, playing out the scenario in his head as he scratched at his naked upper lip a little, like maybe he was hung up on some part of the plan. He screwed up his face a little and looked back at Lauren. "Is it purple?"

Lauren looked at Joss, Joss looked at Lauren, both of them carefully avoiding Tig's line of sight and shrugging subtly. Finally, Joss was bold enough to ask…Tig was her man, after all. "Is what purple?"

"The emo," Tig answered, eyebrows raised like it should have been obvious.

"Emu," Joss corrected, and that time laughed a little…she couldn't help it, not even when Tig looked at her and screwed his face up again.

"No," Lauren's voice cut in again. "It's not purple." She clearly had no idea why she was saying that, or why Tig even asked, but then, neither did Joss…only Tig did.

But that news seemed to make him happy. "Yeah, I'll do it." He replied almost eagerly, then smiled a little, clapped his hands together in front of him and rubbed them together. "C'mon, let's go manhandle Big Bird!"

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading and for reviewing! I mean that more than ever right now; my husband's MC has suffered a loss and having your reviews to turn to and read and think about has been exactly the light I've needed to see in the midst of all the shock, mourning and grief around here right now. Without knowing it, you have all been there for, and I thank you so much for doing so! Not only do your reviews help me as a writer, but you have also helped me as friends, thank you sincerely for your kindness! I hope to have another chapter posted on Thursday, but things are day to day right now, so we will see; think I can get something finished and posted if I stay up all night tonight, cross your fingers.:-)

And, as I've said, this story is (finally) nearing its end. It was not my intention to carry it out this far, I did so at the requests, support and want to include the reviewers, who do so much for me with their words, in what truly is OUR story! But, as our story does begin to draw to a close, I was wondering if any of you would like to tell me what your favorite chapter, or parts of "Three Princes" has been. I'd like to sort of put together some kind of…"finale" I guess you'd call it, based on what you all tell me; just revisit the things you all liked reading about the most, if you will. (Oh, and MELANTHIACHASE" wins the gold star for picking up on the whole Lewis Carroll theme of Chapter 99! Yay!) Thanks again for all that each of you have done and continue to do! - Grace


	102. Paging Dr Freud

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 102

"Joss, what you giving him ideas for?" It was like she wanted that big horse to run away from her, like she was telling him, with her body language, "hey, try to kick me in the head!" The big damn horse took off once more, his huge hooves and powerful rear legs kicking out straight at Joss once again as he tore off the moment Joss cringed and pulled her arms up over her face, anticipating that the big stud's feet were going to fly at her. Tig had the feeling he was saying things that Joss already knew herself, but she was so nervous and so scared, and so hurt by what that big damn horse thought about her, that it was making her twice as skittish as the horse was. Even when the horse stood watchfully, but quietly, Joss would reach up towards his face, trying to slide a halter over his nose with arms shaking like tassels on a stripper's ass, and the horse would see it and immediately charge off away from her, and whatever she was afraid of. Tig didn't know much about horses but watching Joss try and then fail and then fail again and again with him was clearly illustrating how much like mood rings horses were; Joss was scared, really scared, and her fear couldn't have been sensed and displayed any better than it was by that big damn horse.

But Tig was here to fix this, and Joss; but it all felt…different now…just like everything had been feeling different lately…moving up from SAA to VP, his mustache fucking gone, going on a fucking date, letting Joss ride the "best friend" train with Ope, letting her cut his hair…Jesus, yeah, that was different…but it wasn't the right kind of different! This wouldn't be the first time Tig talked Joss through something she was afraid to do, and he was trying to do it the way he would have before…before he was VP, when he had a mustache, and Ope didn't mean shit to either of them…fuck different! They had to get back to what they were before, what they'd always been...back when Joss wasn't afraid of horses. "C'mon little girl, you know what they say about dogs, right? Dog's only bite people who are afraid of them," Tig called to Joss from outside of the quarantine pen, the huge, two hundred pound steel stock gate at his chest. He tried not to sound frustrated, because really, he wasn't…he had expected more from her though, but that didn't mean he was annoyed with her either and was losing his patience…okay, so he was a little bit. "He was a big yella dog instead of a big yella horse…then baby, you'd be chewed up good about now."

"Tig," Joss turned towards him and her shoulders dropped like they weighed a ton as she let out a forlorn sigh. "I," but she hesitated, hugged her arms around herself almost like shielding herself from the horse, and him. "I need a break. Please?"

"No," Tig shook his head, no hesitation in his voice even if part of him did want to let Joss rest and regroup, to put an arm around her and rub her back a little as she did, but ultimately, that wasn't going to help her. That was soft and Tig wasn't soft, no matter how much he loved his sweet, dark, perfect angel. Besides, he never would have done any of that for her before; when she was freaking out, a crying and sputtering, fucking bloody mess on the floor that night he'd showed up at her house with her father splattered all over the living room, Tig hadn't given her any sympathy, or a break; he only gave her orders, and she'd made it through. That's what he had to do now. Making her face this, particularly when she'd already given up on herself, would say a lot, and Tig wanted it to! He leaned against the silver, heavy duty stock gate, impressed with its weight, but then it was designed to keep some large animals contained, and it was. He took advantage of its bulky solidness, putting his foot up on one of its rails, relaxing as he urged Joss onwards. One of them had to be settled and calm here. Besides, this might take awhile, but okay…Tig was as solid and unmovable as the thickset steel gate he leaned against; Joss would get through this, he'd fix her…no other outcome would be accepted. "You're staying in there until you walk up to him and you don't look like you're about to cry and he don't look like he's about to run off. You ain't given that horse any reasons to want to hurt you, so stop acting like you have!"

And then things got strange…Joss turned a whiter shade of pale and stumbled forward, like she was going to end up on her knees in the grass, but she saved her balance at the last minute and just staggered a bit in place. What was that? It had nothing to do with the horse…it was more like she'd just had some type of severe reaction to what he'd said to her about the horse not having any reason not to trust her…did Joss disagree with that? What the hell had she done? Joss stared off at nothing for a few seconds, like she was replaying something in her mind, probably the attack at the auction…Jesus, that damn girl still blamed herself for shit that wasn't her fault, but Tig had handled that. Well, almost…he hadn't exactly de-briefed Joss, so maybe that was part of her hang-up? "He's gone, baby. The only hope that fat fuck-hole horse killer has of coming back is if he causes indigestion."

But that didn't help her to feel better about the big horse. No, it actually seemed to add a new layer of…Tig wasn't even sure what that look on her face was, her emerald eyes were wide, but her brow creased and she looked at Tig like she was imagining something she could believe happening, but didn't want to believe. "What?" She asked him, an adapted sort of shock in her voice where even things that surprised her didn't surprise her, but she was kinda…revolted, but accepting whatever it was at the same time too. What the hell was her problem now? Her eyes held him for a half a second then closed, hiding from whatever it was that she saw when she looked at her old man. "You…ate him?"

What? How'd she get that? That's not what he fucking said! Somebody ate the fat fuck, but not Tig…however…yeah, let Joss believe that right now, it was the kind of thing that had to be between them at a moment like this…this was old school…no more different! "Joss," Tig growled, ignoring her question purposefully. "Catch the damn horse!"

It was a pleasure to see her start immediately forward, no arguments, just taking up her halter and the lead rope and not even looking back at him as she walked among the other huge horses in the field towards the big yellow one…yeah, if she thought her old man was a cannibal…along with all the other shit he was too, then that got her fucking listening, and more worried about him than she was that big horse. She stood only about ten feet from the massive stud, his nearly white mane whipping like a million tiny fingers over his thick neck as he shook it and snorted at her, unsure but not running away, not yet, just waiting to see what Joss was going to do, and Tig prayed that it wouldn't be anything overtly defensive that would put the horse off. The big horse and Joss stood there, looking at each other, both of them uneasy, both of them with at least one foot halfway off the ground, poised to run for it, but both of them just stood there. Tig watched the big horse more closely than he'd ever watched any horse, in tune with every flick and revolution of the big horses yellow ears which both pointed towards Joss now; asking her what was going on, what were her intentions. "Tell him it's 'alright,' baby," Tig's voice was low, a loud whisper that he'd meant to keep to himself, but he couldn't help it, he wanted this to work so badly and wanted Joss to be able to handle that big horse so much.

"It's alright," Joss repeated on command, but her voice still shook just a little bit, but she didn't move and neither did the big stud. Tig held his breath, not knowing anything at all about horses still but filled with the urge to climb over the two hundred pound stock gate and stand there with Joss and help her get close to that horse. She had to do this, she had to! "It's alright," Joss said again and took the tiniest step forward that the big horse noticed and immediately flinched, which made Joss flinch, and that was it…the tension broke with the big yellow stud exploding down the hill in the field, the thundering of hooves the size of Frisbees fading as he got further and further away. Tig's heart sank and his anger rose, but he gritted his teeth, fighting to push it away for now, but then it completely dissolved when Joss turned towards him, tears streaming over her pretty face…he should go to her, pull her close…but he didn't…don't be soft, don't give in…fuck different! Joss threw the halter and lead shank over her shoulder, shuddering as she began to wipe at her cheeks with the heels of her hands, a look on her face like she'd not only hurt that big horse, but betrayed him too. "It's not what he thinks I did that's so hard to get over," she struggled to say loudly enough to Tig, beginning to walk over to where he was at the gate now, she'd had enough, she just wanted to get out of that field for the day…okay, Tig would give her that break she'd asked for, but she was going back in after a few minutes…but right now, she had zero focus, there was no sense in making her stay in there and try again…besides, the big horse needed a break too. Tig lifted the latch on the heavy, steel gate and hauled it open enough to let Joss through, her cheeks still red and wet as she looked up at him. "It's that he doesn't know what I did do."

What? What! There was an imaginary lightening strike before Tig's eyes and all of sudden, he knew everything. Joss wasn't afraid of that big horse! Joss was afraid of whoever didn't know what it was that she'd done…this fucking date…she'd cut Ope's hair…how long had she been hanging out at the garage near closing time, talking about fucking dinner? Holy fucking shit! Joss hadn't ever been tossed around in the hands of psychiatric medicine and psychoanalysis, but Tig had…and he knew exactly what transference was, and it was standing right in front of him wearing tall riding boots and had a halter and lead shank tossed over its stooped shoulder! Joss wasn't afraid of the big horse…Joss was afraid of Tig…she'd only been dealing with that fear by putting it on that big damn horse…she was afraid of her old man! Tig didn't know that she'd…had a "date" with Ope? Was that it? Shit! That day Ope called and said he'd run into over in Dixon…Jesus fucking Christ! The little bitch! Something hot, but not hot like the obsessive, sexual passion that he always felt with her, raged through him like a wildfire of insanity that Tig couldn't fight. He felt his hands open and the two hundred pound steel gate slip loose from them, he heard the bottom of it clang against the fence post and Joss let out a painful, seized rabbit-like cry and something clunked into the ground heavily…but then all Tig knew was that he was over her, his hand closed around her neck as she stared up at him with genuine, appropriately redirected fear in her wide eyes, pinned between Tig's fury and the ground.

Author's Note: I am so sorry this is late, but I wanted to give you all the usually 4 chapters per week that you're due.:-) Thanks for letting me know all of your personal favorite parts of this story, and please, keep them coming! If you've been reading but never commented, don't feel shy, let me know what you really enjoyed reading about the most; I'm hoping to have something for everyone in the finale, to say a proper "thank you" to all of you!:-) As well, thank you always for reading and for reviewing and for making me a better writer than I was when I first started posting stories here! A special "Get Well" soon to DUTCH'76; sending you positive thoughts and energies and I hope you're on your level and even feet again soon!:-) More on Monday and I hope you are all having a wonderful weekend!


	103. Evidence to the Contrary

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

_Attention:__ I do not support domestic violence, but I am writing about an outlaw club here, so… But, PLEASE if you are in a bad situation, get out! Help is available! In the United States, call __1-800-799-SAFE_

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 103

"You've got a fracture in your distal radius, right under the little scaphoid bone," Verda was in full on doctor mode, pointing out structures, and the little hairline crack that was present on the X-ray of Joss's wrist. Good, Joss hoped Verda would stay distracted by the X-ray on the big lighted board, just keep looking at the illuminated bones and not see anything beyond them. Joss nodded, her injured arm wrapped with an ice compress and carefully draped in her lap as she sat on the exam table swinging her tall booted feet in what she hoped conveyed boredom…even though it was anxiety that made her unable to keep still. There was a lot riding on Joss's performance here at Saint Thomas's emergency room; if she screwed this up, then there'd be major consequences…for Tig and her both, and Joss wasn't losing her man! She didn't need an X-ray, or Verda, to tell her that her wrist was broken; there was a big, swollen lump, about the size of an egg right over the place on the X-ray that showed the crack in her radius…plus, Joss hurt like a bone was broken, it just throbbed and throbbed and throbbed. But she had to ignore the pain as much as she could; Tig was counting on her to get through this without saying a word…not one damn word…she owed him that.

"So, we cast it then?" Joss asked as if she was unimpressed, acted like it didn't really hurt, sat there and forced herself not to focus on how it was that her wrist had been snapped…she couldn't give anything away, nothing…Tig…he was everything and she had no problems lying for him. With another masked deep breath to steady herself Joss looked up at Verda with a hopeful and purely teenage smile. "Hey, you've got all the colored fiberglass stuff now, right?" She asked with enthusiasm that she only half had to manufacture. "Can I get a black and red cast?"

For a moment a smile creased the corners of Verda's mouth, but it looked hesitant and disappeared as though she'd been caught laughing at a funeral. "I suppose," she said, looking at Joss like she'd make that happen if it would make Joss feel better, if it would somehow give what Joss went through a happy ending…but Joss was getting the cold, icy feeling that Verda didn't see a real happy ending here. It was pointless to wish Tara was still working at Saint Thomas; Tara had finally gotten to a place with this life where she might have actually taken one look at Joss and understood everything…but Tara was gone…in Texas, with Jax. Verda was it and Joss would make the best of that as she could. Verda shoved her hands down into the pockets of her lab coat and looked back at the X-rays. "Looks like a good, clean break. Nothing to be set," Verda's medically critical eye still gleaned information from the X-rays, staring at them like she wanted to be wrong about Joss's wrist being broken, and trying to tell herself that "it wasn't that bad," and it wasn't…Joss had suffered much much worse at the hands of other men. Verda's eyes were still on the X-ray films, looking at them like they were big, glowing billboards of how Joss knew she'd fucked up, how she'd put Tig in a position where he had to do something…something, and no one could ever find out what. Verda wouldn't understand what that was and Joss wasn't in the mood to even begin trying to justify it to her…Verda was open minded, head over heels about Ope, but she was still an outsider.

"That's good," Joss forced a relieved smile, trying to inject a happy and relaxed tone into the small exam room, but it didn't seem to do much against what Joss already knew was in Verda's mind.

Verda's hot chocolate colored features crinkled as she took one last look at the sprawling image of the bones of Joss's hand and arm. "I'm not an orthopedist, but it doesn't look like you'll be needing surgery here, however it's always good to get a second opinion," she said and Joss cringed; Joss didn't need another doctor, another outsider, in this. It was bad enough that Joss still wasn't sure if, and what, Laruen might have seen, or Hayley. No one had been around, but then, Joss had been distracted…very distracted…all she could do was try to pull information from hazy memories and hope that what happened between her and Tig went un-witnessed. Joss didn't need anyone else, particularly not Verda, in this; it figured that the one time that Joss went to the ER with something to hide she was immediately noticed and whisked away by someone who genuinely cared about her and wouldn't just assume that she'd fallen off of a horse or something. Verda meant well, Joss knew she did, but the kind of help that Joss could sense Verda about to offer was the opposite of what Joss needed. As if Verda had heard Joss's thoughts and was insisting she was right, Verda nodded and Joss watched her green eyes move towards the phone. "Let me call Dr. Berner, he's the best orthopedic surgeon in the hospital, I'd feel better if he took a look at it."

"No!" Damn, Joss didn't mean to flinch in protest like that, her voice jumping out of her mouth like some feisty little dog. She took a deep breath, tried to settle down. "I mean, it's okay, I'm good. Just plaster it up, please; I gotta get back to the animals." Yeah…she did, she just wanted to get out of here, to get back to Tig and finish what it was they'd started talking about…started talking about after…no, if she sat here, in the emergency room, on the exam table, holding her busted wrist in her lap, Joss was going to give everything away.

But Joss knew how overanxious she'd sounded as soon as Verda sighed, flipped off the light on the X-ray display and then turned towards her. "Joss," she said as though her next words were going to be some "you have cancerous herpes on your ass" or something. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Shit! Once again Joss said the wrong thing the wrong way! It was like there was some unconscious script written for any beat up woman who made her way into the emergency room, and Joss couldn't get away from it…but this was different…it was!

And then a little bit of "friend" crept into the "doctor mode" and Verda shook her head sadly, walking over and taking a seat beside Joss on the exam table, crossing her legs, the elegant, crisp creases in her trouser jeans such a stark contrast to Joss's grass stained and muddied, olive khaki riding tights. "Hey," she began. "This isn't easy, I know that, but you need to think about what I'm looking at here, Joss." Verda began, and really, she didn't have to finish, because Joss already knew where this would end. "You limp in here, alone, with a broken wrist that looks like someone stomped on it, or grabbed you by it and shook you, your hair looks like you've been dragged around by it, you've got two bite marks on your shoulder and bruises all over the place, a set of which that look a lot like fingerprints on your throat." She paused, looking at Joss like she really did want to help, like she was so sorry that Joss had to go through whatever it was Joss went through…but…no, Verda didn't understand. "That's what I mean," Verda said, cocking her head smartly then reached for a little tough love. "Now, what's going on?"

The word "nothing" was instantly formed in Joss's mouth but this time she managed to break away from the battered woman's script. She had to, now was time to lay down the law and let Verda know that she was not allowed to trespass into this, no matter what laws or codes the state of California or Saint Thomas may have had concerning what a physician was supposed to do if they suspected things like domestic violence or child abuse. Joss wasn't going to let that happen…she'd promised Tig that she wouldn't say a word, and she'd meant it.

"Verda," Joss sighed and shook her hair a little bit, feeling now that it was pretty mussed up…Tig…but Joss pushed through it all. "I know what you're thinking, and I understand why you're thinking it; I sure as hell can't deny the marks on my skin or the broken bones on that X-ray, but," and Joss made sure she had Verda's undivided attention and Joss's voice grew heavy with how serious she was. "It's not what you think. It's not the same as it is in your world as it is in mine, not even a little bit," she'd said the words like they were an order more than an ordinary statement, and they kind of were; Verda was not to go digging into things that she didn't understand and Joss knew Verda would never understand what really happened. Besides, the last thing Joss wanted to explain to Verda was that she and Tig got into it over Joss going on a date with Ope…just last week! That would have been worse than admitting to Verda what really did happen with Tig. Oh no…Joss's stomach sank for what seemed like the hundredth time since Verda appeared in front of her all worried and upset in the waiting room of the ER. Opie! Ope was a biker, just like Tig! Verda was supposed to be going out with Ope, the biker, just like Tig, and now here Joss was, married to Tig, a biker, just like Opie, and Joss was all beat up looking…oh God…this really had to look bad to Verda…what if Verda was re-thinking her date with Ope right now? What if she was starting to see this life, this club, these men, in a much less open-minded way now? No…Verda was perfect for Ope…she couldn't bail just because Joss was…damn it…if only Joss could tell Verda what really happened, from start to finish!

But Verda was staunchly shaking her head, mouth open, indicating more words were coming; Verda was changing her tone now, about to try to start coddling Joss whether Verda realized that's what she was doing or not. "Joss, look, I understand that sometimes men have bad days, or get drunk, or maybe we're doing something that aggravates them, and I even understand that sometimes, men don't mean to do the things that they do…but that still doesn't mean it's okay for anyone to hi—"

"Verda!" Joss's voice was loud and strong then, louder and stronger than Joss had predicted it would be, but she didn't back down, just charged ahead while she had her friend stifled. "We aren't doing this, okay?" Joss was shaking her head, eyes boring into Verda's. "This is not going to happen! In fact, you're not even going to remember this; what you think happened didn't happen and I never came in here to get taped up!" Wow…Joss was a little bit awed by how much she sounded like Tig…but that was good, it made her want to smile, though now was not the time to smile, she had Verda on the ropes…but yes, Joss should sound like Tig! Tig was right, he should be her influence, not Gemma…the club would be Tig's and Joss's one day, they'd be the king and the queen, they had to stand together and uphold the same laws the same way. Verda stared back at Joss, not nodding, or disagreeing, but acknowledging Joss's words with big, frightened eyes, thoughts playing out behind them of what she thought happened to Joss…only Joss could see that Verda was beginning to imagine herself in the role she'd supposed Joss to have been in prior to coming to Saint Thomas…oh no…Joss had to do something here, she had to fix that. "I know this isn't good," Joss finally conceded, stealing a glance down at her swollen, sore wrist under the ice pack and sighed…feeling like every bruise and every bite mark was blinking brightly on and off like one of those red lights on a radio tower, drawing more attention to every scratch and scrape than Joss needed right now. "But this will never be Opie and you, okay? Ope's no angel, I'm not saying he is," all of a sudden the ice pack seemed less cold and it was like someone turned up the pain on her broken wrist and Joss gasped a little, closing her eyes a moment, but continuing on with what she was saying, hoping Verda would understand this. "But Opie won't ever have you sitting here, where I am, right now."

Author's Note: Here's hoping you all haven't condemned Tig; he is what he is, I haven't left any of the unsavory parts of him out in this story, you know that…hang in there, though…it'll all work out in the next chapter, I promise!

The Tijo photo album is once again updated and still accessible via my profile page, and this time I've gotten brave and put up a picture of my real live, actual self in there so you all could put a face and body with the name that writes all these crazy words you so loyally and endearingly read. Thank you for doing so! Seriously, that you all continue to read, and those of you who choose to review, you've got a fan for life in me! Writers put so much of themselves into their work, and I've been very very blessed to have readers who wished to put so much of themselves into this story as well, and I've enjoyed…no, I've so been made better by your support, your kindness and your comments that I'll likely never be able to do it justice with words…all I can do is keep writing, because that's what you've all taught me how to do well. Thank you! - Grace


	104. Burden of Proof

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 104

It was after five and dark by the time Joss got home and she was a bit proud of herself for getting home; she'd managed to drive from Saint Thomas to the house without hitting a thing, despite the cast that immobilized her left arm from below her elbow to her knuckles, the joint that made her thumb opposable collared by the fiberglass as well. But she'd made it okay…made it home…home, where it was appropriately dark; the woods she and Tig lived in creating an even more lightless atmosphere than everywhere else she'd been. Once Joss turned off the truck and the headlights went out, everything went black; everything except for a tiny speck of orange, moving slowly and relaxingly back a forth over on the porch steps. Tig, he was waiting for her, sitting there on the steps, in the dark, smoking a cigarette and making sure she got home, probably wondering why she didn't call him when she walked out of the hospital the way they decided she would…but Joss wasn't sure what to say to him if she'd called him then…she wasn't even sure what to say to him now either…she just sat in the truck for what seemed like several minutes, though she knew it wasn't, distracted by how hard she prayed that Tig would just stay over there on the steps…and he did. Hmm…well, he probably didn't know what to say to her either…yes he did, he'd want to know how it went, was she okay, did anyone suspect anything; had she played a convincing role…what was there to say beyond that? He'd never hit her…never.

Oh, what was she doing? This was stupid, Tig knew she was home and she knew he was there on the porch steps…what, was she really going to wait until he called her to him? Was that it? And if he didn't, then what; she slept in the truck? Trying to make a pillow out of her good hand and the hard, grainy fiberglass of her snazzy black and red cast? Joss took a deep breath and shook her head at herself, her fingers on her good hand looping through the inner door handle and pulling it before any other part of her could start thinking enough to stall her exiting the confines of the truck. The orange speck of her man's cigarette still glowed, like a beacon in a lighthouse, guiding her to him…he wasn't sitting out here waiting for her because he was pissed off, he was sitting out here waiting for her because he loved her…she and Tig would get through this…this was nothing…this was going to make everything right…it didn't matter how backwards and awkward everything seemed right now; that was temporary.

Joss didn't realize she was walking up the sidewalk until she realized how slowly she was doing so, the toe of her tall boot dragging behind her with every step forward of the other. Her new, fiberglass cast dangled down at her thigh, feeling heavy and yet so light all at the same time, but mostly Joss kept her eyes on the glow of Tig's cigarette, making sure he didn't get up and start towards her…she didn't need that right now…he'd done more than enough…she didn't deserve a man like him…anyone else would have killed her where she stood earlier today the minute they found out about the date with Opie…and Tig was supposed to, but…no one would ever understand what really happened, no one. Tig loved her far too damn much, more than even Joss thought was possible, and realizing how much of her man she'd never known, how much of him she'd never thought existed and had therefore been disrespecting all this time made Joss want to slit her own throat. She loved him, she always would…he'd always love her, that was never more clear…never more clear to her and to Tig, that was. It didn't matter how much they tried to "open things up" to those around them…Tijo was Tijo, and it was incomprehensible to those outside of it; an enigma, a fleeting glimpse of something mythic that would forever make everyone wonder if they'd actually seen anything at all. Only Tig and Joss would ever know what they had, or what they were; they were the only beings in the entire universe that could be what they were and have what they had; their love was a species all its own.

"Hey," Tig spoke first, still just the glowing ember of a cigarette in the dark, he didn't move; just sat there, let Joss come to him without telling her to. She waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

"Hey," she answered back, trying not to sound so somber but it wasn't easy…she hated herself royally…how could Tig be everything, and everything be Tig, and yet Joss still didn't know the depth of what he felt for her? She'd always known he'd never hurt her…

The speck of orange glow disappeared as Joss neared him and she could hear Tig crushing out the only artificial light there had been, and once it was gone, she could see him clearly now, sitting on the top step, his feet on the one below it, his strong arms propped on his knees, a beer bottle at his side. He scanned her with his eyes from head to toe. "Nothing broken?" His voice was tight and anxious, afraid to hear that nothing showed up on the X-ray, afraid of what it would mean and what he'd have to do next if there was nothing significant wrong with her, but Joss felt a little bit of calmness come over her, she had the answer she knew Tig wanted to hear.

"Oh, it's broken, alright," she announced and felt a little bit of a smile pull at one side of her mouth as she held up her left arm, fiberglass and all. "I got a black cast; you just can't see it out here, that's all."

"Black, huh?" Tig laughed a bit like he thought that was cool, holding his hand out to her, wanting to see this black cast closer. Joss walked up the first two stairs, extending her arm and almost immediately feeling the heat of Tig's hands around the fiberglass that sheathed her injury…she could feel him through anything, he'd always be there. "You got red on here, too?" Tig sort of laughed again, straining his arctic blue eyes in the dark, finally pulling his lighter from inside his cut and flicking up a flame to see by.

"Yeah, just one 'figure eight' kind of wrap to make it look pretty," Joss nodded but then sighed, "I'm sorry it took so long…I should have gone to a different hospital, I don't know what I was thinking…ended up with Verda—"

"Shit!" Tig groaned; letting go of Joss's arm and flipping the lighter closed. "She know anything?"

"She suspects something, but she doesn't know anything." Joss quickly answered, thinking back to her hospital visit and realizing how well it really had gone.

"Okay," Tig nodded, confident with what Joss reported. "I'm sure she'll drag that back to Ope, so it'll work out alright, don't worry about it. It'll still end up with him finally give you the kind of respect he's supposed to fucking give you as my old lady."

"I can't help worrying about it," Joss sighed as she took a seat on the lowest stair step. "I fucked up, Tig. You know I did. I feel like this red, figure eight deal on my cast should be a great, big, red letter 'A' instead." That feeling had been brewing in her even before Tig had clutched her by the throat and knocked her to the ground…but he didn't do much after that…he just looked down at her for a long time…a long time…holding her by the throat.

"Stop it!" The order was harsh, but not unexpected, Joss knew she was picking at a sore, but she still wanted to apologize, wanted to make Tig see that there really was only him for her and that she didn't think about anyone else, even if she did go out with Ope.

Joss heard herself sigh, "I love you," escaping with the breath that left her body.

"I know," Tig answered in the much the same way, just as rattled as Joss was to hear those words, but Joss wasn't done.

"I mean that, Tig." She said and turned to face him from her bottom step. "Before I met you, the world I was living in would have fit on the tip of my finger," Joss shook her head as she spoke, feeling where the words were coming from, but not truly knowing what it was she would say next. "You changed all of that for me, you showed me what I was, what I have inside…" she was ready to hear him tell her to "shut up," this wasn't the kind of stuff Tig liked to hear, but he was quiet and even paying attention. "I am what you are, Tig. I know you'll try to tell me that you're something a lot worse than I am, but you're not…" a tear played at the corner of Joss's eye, threatening to jump…she did love Tig, and he did love her too, "after today, I hope you can see why I say that." Again Tig said nothing and Joss took the opportunity to move on before he'd have to. "We're perfectly matched, you're it for me. It's more than me just loving you, or wanting to be with you because I love you…you're my mate, Tig…you're the only male thing that corresponds to the female thing that I am." She paused, feeling weepy, very weepy, but she held together, she had to; this was the perfect place to admit how wrong she was, how egregious her actions had been and beg his forgiveness for them. "I never meant to risk all of that, or make you think it didn't mean anything to me by goin—

"You went out with Ope because he was giving you the attention that you wanted from me." Tig didn't dress it up, he didn't dress it down, he just said it, it came out as plain and unhidden as it could have and Joss realized exactly why it was he'd been so quiet after knocking her to the ground, his hand around her neck…Tig had been putting the pieces together even then…and once they made sense to him, he'd immediately shifted into damage control…noticed her broken wrist, decided to use it to his advantage, told her exactly what to say if anyone asked. But here on the steps, after her story was related to the outside world of Verda, this wasn't damage control Tig was concocting anymore, this was frustration with himself seeping out. He'd found a way to save face within the club without having to hurt Joss…at least, without directly hurting her…his hands had slipped off of the heavy duty stock gate after all, and that's how it slammed shut on her arm…but other than that, all Tig had done was put a few bruises on her neck…the bite marks and the other little stippled areas of Joss's skin…hmm, Joss smiled, Tig never let her up, never stopped leaning on her like he meant to do her serious harm, but he was kissing her violently, kissing her everywhere, lost in what Joss now realized was both relief that he didn't have to hurt her, but biting her hard enough to put his mark on her and enforce that she was his. No one would understand what really happened…no one would ever understand Tijo. But Joss understood Tig, and she wouldn't let him take any blame.

"It doesn't matter what I wanted, Tig. I was wrong." She insisted strongly, but Tig only waved away her comment with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"I swear to fucking Christ, it's like this VP badge is cursed or some shit, baby." He sat looking down at her, but not looking at her, shaking his head, disgusted with himself. "The minute I sew it on, I go off and leave you to figure shit out by yourself, stop paying attention to the signals you're sending me, forget that you look to me for…fucking everything," Tig paused and growled, at himself this time. "I was a good SAA, I was…and I fucking miss being it, too! Cuz I'm not transitioning into this VP shit real good!" His tone was short and angry, he probably would have thrown a good, solid punch at himself if he could have, but with another heavy sigh, his head hanging down, some of the fire went out. "We both know what this has to look like to everybody else, Joss. Let 'em think I beat the hell out of you. But this isn't because of you, okay? It's not your fault. Just let me get my shit figured out and…it'll be okay, alright?"

Joss immediately opened her mouth to tell him he wasn't right, that it was because of her, that she made up her own mind to accept Opie's offer and it had nothing to do with Tig…but the more she heard her man's words in her head, the more she began to realize where Tig was coming from, even if he'd left some of the minor details out. Joss didn't blame him, she'd never blame him, she'd never say it was his fault, never…but it was like he said it was; she did look to him for "fucking everything," and if he didn't have his "shit figured out," then how was Joss supposed to figure her own shit out? And she'd been away from Tig more than ever now too; she had a job now…there was something in her life besides her man, and Joss hadn't "figured that shit out" yet either. "Okay," Joss nodded, watching Tig carefully, she didn't blame him, it wasn't his fault, and at the first sign of him reacting or accepting that she was telling him it was, Joss was at the ready to start with a whole new speech, but until then, she continued on…suddenly realizing what a big deal this all kind of wasn't. "We were both kind of leading each other off course, due to our focus on work, really." Yeah, they were…and so this was the perfect time for her to show up around the club with a few bruises and a busted arm…no one would question how well Tig was keeping a hold of her now that Joss was a working girl. She was feeling better now, so much better. But she had to get Tig to the same place she was with this. "It's just a bump in the road, that's all. Like you said, 'it'll be okay.' I believe you."

"Yeah," Tig grunted and he picked up the bit of cigarette butt and threw it out into the wooded yard with a sharp, angry toss. "Knew I wasn't ready for this VP shit…"

There were so many things that Joss wanted to say, so many words of encouragement and best wishes to bestow upon him, but she knew better. This was Tig's shit, he had to work though it himself, and if he needed her, or wanted her in it, he'd let her know. But, she couldn't leave him like he was, she had to lift him up somehow, make him realize that things weren't all that bad…and they weren't, considering their last big fight. It was a gamble to bring that up, being that Ope had been the catalyst for that one too, but it was still worth a shot. "We're getting better at this, you know."

Tig screwed up his face and looked annoyed, just like Joss was hoping he would…that was his usual look, it was a good sign. "What?" He asked; shaking his head, tone as annoyed as the look on his face.

"At arguing, or having spats, or whatever you want to call it," she answered, trying not to smile too much, or look too proud. "I mean, your face isn't clawed off and I haven't blown the bathroom door off," but now Joss did smile, she couldn't help it. "We're getting better!"

Finally Tig's mustache-less upper lip arced up a tiny bit and his warm chuckle broke the night's stillness. "Guess that's good," Tig glanced up at her and smiled some, but he was still frustrated with himself. "All I gotta do now is figure out how to fix this shit." And he sighed angrily; disappointed that he still had no answer for how.

But Joss already knew…Gemma…the queen already told Joss how this worked, Gemma prefacing her advice with a cryptic "you won't understand this now, but you will someday," and Gemma had been right. Now it made perfect sense. Joss looked up the steps at Tig, her heart beating faster as she did, but not because she was nervous or fearful…she loved him, and he loved her…loved her so much that he could never hurt her, never. Violence was his first response to most situations, he did unspeakable things to his enemies…he possibly even ate a man…but Tig was the safest place Joss could ever be. They could get control of this, they could put themselves back to what they were before, and they could do it together. "Tig, I know how 'fortune cookie-ish' this sounds, but it takes an awful lot of running to stay in the same place." He crooked an eyebrow and peered down at her, just the way Joss expected he would, and she giggled a little, but quickly got over it, finding another way to put what she meant, at least part of it anyway. "We were right in trying to open up what we have to those who need to know it's there, but I don't think we've been doing it the right way."


	105. Measure of a Man

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 105

Joss was awakened by the poke of something cold and metallic that smelled faintly of motor oil, a lot like their garage did. But it was early, even with her eyes closed she could sense she still had a good twenty minutes left to sleep before she'd have to get up and go to work…whatever was poking her would just have to wait. She settled in again, still feeling Tig's broad chest at her back, pushed back into the wooliness of all the dark hairs that covered it, enjoying the solidness and strength that pressed against her form as soon as she'd moved, Tig moving closer to her as well, the two of them like magnets, stuck soundly to one another. But he only held her with one arm now, but she was no less lashed to him, and it felt better than ever before; he wanted her close and he'd have her close…she was his, all his. Her broken wrist, everything that Tig didn't do to her that he could have done to her, and what it all meant had made for a rather close night…that was the best word for it, close; there was sex, a lot of sex, how could their not be sex? Joss's skin was spotted with Tig's marks now, her body a celebration of how much she belonged to him, faint bluish imprints of his fingers fell like confetti over her fair skin, pinkish red oval dints of his teeth like branded letter "O's." Even half asleep still, Joss smiled, felt so happy; Tig's love for her could be read like hieroglyphics on her skin, she was his, it was written all over her…even if no one else would ever interpret those markings in such a way.

But that metal thing kept poking at her, sliding over her arm now, cold and noisy. But still Joss settled in contently, not that she'd been very unsettled to begin with; sleeping with Tig had toughened her to things that most people wouldn't believe and wouldn't be able to ever sleep again if they did believe. But whatever was poking her was only getting more intrusive, it slid across her nose, its edge felt sharp and it made a sound like those thin metal sheets they shook off stage in plays to sound like thunder, only the sound was much smaller and less intense. But whatever the thin, flat, metallic intruder was, it was beginning to encompass her. Her eyes popped open and she pulled back away from whatever it was that seemed to be draping it's cold, sharp self around her as it slid on along towards the edge of the bed, Tig's movements and jostling around behind her were evident, though Joss could tell he wasn't sitting up…but his hand was moving…pushing the thin, metal, oily smelling, sharp edged, whispered thunder apparatus at her…what the hell was he into now? Last night, on the steps, had been powerful, a lot had been said and even more discovered about what they were and what they meant to each other…was Tig in need of some new funk to get right with it all? Great…what was he going to wake her up to do, and how did the…whatever it was, play into it? They only had twenty minutes, that wasn't enough time to start some new kind of kink.

But the cold, metal, sharp edged thing didn't stop, it was right on her bare skin, the slightly ominous wobbling sound it made, and its garage like smell, making more sense to her now. It was a tape measure, the metal kind with the flat hook on the end that could be pulled out manually and then retracted at the touch of a button. She was being measured…widthwise …and Tig was snugging up to her a little more, then a little more, adjusting the tape measure as he did, holding it as best he could with one hand as he pulled her close with the other arm, trying to turn them both so that he was on his back and Joss would end up lying with her head on his chest…but he was trying to do all this without waking her up…and that was too weird to sleep through or ignore.

"What are you doing?" She didn't bother to look at him when she asked, but the moment she did, Tig's tape measure snapped and crackled as it flew back into its housing, retracting like the proverbial dick on a cold day and he seemed overall startled, and maybe even a little embarrassed that she'd caught him doing…whatever the hell he was doing.

"Nothing," he answered in full on denial mode then skittered the tape measure across the mattress and out of the bed, Joss heard it clunk loudly on the floor, then her man yawned, and rubbed at one eye with his fist for good measure. "It's not time to get up yet, why you awake? Go back to sleep."

Joss shook her head but she couldn't help smile and start to laugh a little; Tig's innocent act was comically bad. "No, seriously, what are you doing?" If this was some kind of new kink he needed, then Joss should at least try to get a feel for what he wanted and how he wanted it…but tape measures? Well…stranger things had happened between them…in the emotional bewilderment that preceded Tig's proposal of marriage, Joss still remembered all the ridiculous fetishes he'd developed then, and all the sentences they'd made her utter: "Tig, drop the muffin pan!" "Tig, really, what are you going to do with the bread machine?" "Fine, the rolling pin can 'watch' from the dresser." "I don't care how you do it, but you're going to get all that applesauce out of the bath tub!"

Tig was looking at her now like maybe he was thinking about telling her what the tape measure meant, why he had it, why he was trying to measure her…and him for that matter, without her knowing it, but that contemplation was soon replaced by a sly look and a sideways grin. "You really awake?"

"Yeah," Joss nodded, hoping he'd give up his secret, but knowing this was now going somewhere different…but no less satisfying.

Tig pushed her back and climbed above her, pinning down her good hand and intertwining his fingers with those that stuck out of her cast, then leaned down and kissed her forcefully, taking over her body with only a few brushes of his lips and strokes of his tongue, Joss's heart racing and her body hot, shuddering and panting as his hard as stone cock slipped demandingly between her thighs, its plum sized head and thick veins of its shaft pulsating against her skin. But he didn't rush to bury himself deep, didn't thrust his long, wide stiffness into her so hard and fast it made her jump and gasp in surprise and pain, then fuck her slowly but deeply, riding out every little ripple and flinch of her stunned and stimulated body like Poseidon calming the treacherous seas. He just looked down at her, dropping to one elbow as he let go of her casted arm and brushed her hair behind her ear again and again until it was more like being petted, staring down into her face with eyes that had never looked so blue. "Then tell me you love me," he almost whispered, still stroking her hair, still so focused on everything that she was, but his back was arching and Joss's thighs moving apart, anticipating the contact and wanting her man so fully that her desire for him took her breath. "And never stop."

Chapter 105; Part 2

"You're sure that's what happened?" Great…I didn't need this phone call first thing when I got to work…and to think that when my phone rang and Verda's name showed up on it I was actually excited. But I wasn't expecting this…which was really stupid of me; here I am the SAA and I'm forgetting the damn rules I'm supposed to be upholding and holding everyone else accountable to!

Verda stammers a bit, but she's not changing her story, just looking for the most convincing way to say what she means. "Joss didn't say anything about what happened, Ope." Then she sighed, "they never do."

Jesus Christ…Joss is a "they" now? "Look, I'm not calling you a liar, but I just don't see Tig hauling off and belting her one; doesn't matter what it might be for." At least…I think I can't see that happening…depends on what Joss told him…or what Tig somehow found out.

"Oh come on, Ope!" Verda sounds almost like she's getting frustrated with me, and maybe she is. "You said yourself that Tig has a history of beating women."

"I said he has a history of beating…" why am I trying to qualify this? "Look, Joss isn't a 'woman,' not like that. Not to Tig, okay?"

"What?" I can tell that Verda's eyebrows are raised and she's looking down her nose at me while on the phone…damn it, I wish I could explain this better, I wish I could tell her stuff I just can't tell her, not yet anyway…but most of all, I wish that Tig didn't have a reason to smack Joss around and break her arm…but he does…and I'm it.

And still I'm trying to clean this up and make Verda understand what can never be understood. "Remember how we saw them…necking…that day at the horse rescue and you smiled and said, 'they're different, aren't they?'" I say because I remember…unfortunately, I'll always have that hellish, reptilian image stamped into my brain. I take Verda's silence to mean that she does indeed remember, that Tig and Joss…chewing each other up is stamped into her brain too. "Well," I sigh, "they are 'different.'"

And then Verda sighs too. "Whatever then, Opie." She says, but after a deep breath, her tone changes to something less speculative and headed more for her usual lilting, happy calm, confidence that I've always liked about her. "I didn't call because I wanted to start something, and I for sure don't want to start off what we may be building with a negative foundation, so—"

"Don't worry about it; you haven't done anything like that at all!" Damn it…I sound like she was about to disappear forever or something…I should have at least let her finish her sentence before I jumped for it like that. I couldn't help it though…she's important to me, I don't wan—oh hell, what I am doing? I think way too much…way too much! "Sorry," I start there, then gear up with my own deep breath. "I just didn't want you think that you put me off or anything. You're too important to me to leave you thinking that you said the wrong thing to me or pissed me off."

The line is void of words, but I can hear how her expression changes, how a heavy smile bends her beautiful lips and the way her happiness rises unexpectedly and flutters into the place I've somehow been able to touch her, all of it expressed in a lighting fast cringing type of breathy laugh that dissipates with delighted shiver. Wow…I forgot how it felt to touch a woman like that…been trying for so long with the wrong one…and she might be in trouble as a result of it. Verda clears her throat and sounds like she's fighting to put her feet back down on the ground…but so am I…haven't felt as powerful as I do right now for a long long time. "Anyway, I like Joss, I was only thinking of her," she says, but I can tell she's smiling in a way that in no way reflects the concern she's coming to me with. "I just thought that maybe, since you're the Sergeant at Arms, that you could…I don't know, talk to Tig about it, maybe counsel him or something?"

Is she serious? I'm speechless, I'm waiting to hear Verda laugh, or say "just kidding" and then laugh…but she doesn't…because she is serious! "Um," damn, I really do wish I could tell her about all the stuff I can't tell her about yet! "That's not really…" what am I saying? Like Verda's going to understand that a man's property was just that, his property, and the word "property" on Joss's back literally made her no different than anything else Tig owned; if he wants to beat her, he can beat her, no questions asked and no toll to pay…but if he beat her…well, if he did, it's not really Tig I'm angry or disappointed with. "Okay," I hear myself saying, for the good of keeping things positive with Verda…I got through to her earlier in a way that I want to keep getting through to her, so right now I'll say anything to make her smile again. "I'll see what I can do." Yeah…me 'counseling' Tig…me…the one who sent Joss to slaughter.

Author's Note: I'm really really sorry that you all didn't get a new chapter on Wednesday! We had a thunderstorm come through around 5:30am EST on Wednesday and it knocked our electricity out and the power company didn't get it turned back on until close to 9pm EST.:-( But, I stayed up late to finish this and get it to you because I really do hate to disappoint readers as loyal as you all have been! Thank you! I had to split this chapter in a weird place due to length, so sorry if it seems a little abrupt at the end here. But, I do thank you for reading and I am forever in your debt for commenting, and if all you've done for me didn't truly mean so much, then I wouldn't have bothered to stick it out and get this posted at 2am EST…but I did, so sit back and be proud of yourselves for being so awesome!:-) - Grace


	106. Inauguration

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 106

Lauren was seated at the desk in the tack room when Joss walked in and it was clear that Lauren had been paying close attention to the sounds in the barn. Lauren had heard the dull echo of steel horseshoes on the concrete floor and was likely trying to determine what horse had just been brought into the barn and by whom…and she was obviously surprised to see that Joss was the "whom." Really? Joss worked here, what was the surprise? Well, Lauren was doing the books, had half of a schedule made up; Joss's entrance into the tack room probably startled her and was holding her up in a bad place to be held up in. Okay, Joss would just get in and get out quickly, as soon as she found what she needed anyway.

"We don't have any treeless saddles, do we?" Lauren had just kept looking at Joss, never once tried to return to her figures and her day of the week chart, just sat there at the desk looking all doubtful and concerned, stunned that Joss had brought a horse into the barn and was now asking about a saddle. Really, what was up? Wait…oh! Oh God! What did Lauren know? What did she see? She'd obviously seen something, because Lauren's stare was directed to the cast on Joss's arm now, just locked on like a heat seeking missile, making Joss feel like she should tuck her left arm behind her body…but if she did, Lauren would no doubt start to notice all the other marks on Joss's skin.

"Might be a dressage saddle that's treeless over there," Lauren pointed with her pencil towards the saddle stand in the corner that had four saddles stacked on top of each other on it, but her answer was more like a question. "I don't think I sold it." She said, but sounded like she had no idea what Joss might want with a saddle. But…why was asking about a saddle making Lauren so fretful of what Tig might do? Did Lauren think Joss was somehow going to get into more trouble with Tig because she was riding with a cast on her arm? Was that it?

Lauren's eyes never left the cast, but Joss wasn't going to acknowledge where she was looking, or that there even was a cast. "Hmm," Joss leaned over towards the indicated saddle rack, doubtful herself. "I don't know," then she shook her head, her decision made without even seeing the spoken of saddle. "I was going to start working with our Fjord ponies today, but I don't think a dressage saddle is what I want to throw on them. I just need something with a wide gullet, but smaller than the two draft saddles we have." Then Joss kinda sighed, but smiled, she was really looking forward to seeing what the dun Norwegian pony with the long, inky dorsal stripe would be like to ride. Both the large pony Fjords were so cute and had such neat markings; Joss had high hopes that both the little Fjords would work out well under saddle. If they did, then she and Lauren could expand the riding school to accommodate children as well as adults! But the Fjords, while smaller than horses, were big and round and flat across the shoulders, a normal saddle for a normal horse would never fit them, and the saddles she and Lauren were using for the enormous Draft horses weren't the answer either. "Oh well," Joss shrugged and began to turn back towards the tack room door after she grabbed a medium sized bridle from the row of them on the wall. "Looks like I ride bareback until we get a saddle that'll fit the Fjords well."

Joss's hand was on the doorknob when the desk chair skidded across the tack room floor and Lauren stood up abruptly. "Joss!" She called as if there were some emergency, making Joss turn and face her again, a bit startled herself now. Shit…was Lauren that afraid of Tig for Joss? "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Lauren asked, trying to dissuade Joss from carrying out her plan. "Because of your wrist, I mean," Lauren said next, but it was an afterthought and not what she really meant to say, that was obvious. "I mean, I of course know they're ponies, but they're 'draft' ponies, they're still pretty damn strong," Laruen reminded, making sure Joss was paying attention to how serious she was. "We talked about this, you know those Fjords came in as a pair, and you know that means they're most likely broke to harness, probably pulled a carriage or something, and are therefore they're used to working together, not separately. You take just one of them up to that ring by himself, and he's likely to have a big enough panic attack to go down in the equine history books…and you think getting on him bareback is a good idea?"

"Lauren, I ride Sam," Joss laughed. "I think I can handle it." Sheesh, had Lauren forgotten that? Sam was the most crazy and unpredictable thing on the farm, but Joss managed okay with him…he was her horse, it took awhile and nearly killed her a few times, but Joss had built a bond with that nutcase dapple gray that had no room for fear in it…fear…oh! Lauren's reaction to Joss working with the Fjords, riding them bareback, had nothing to do with the cast, or Tig. It was all about how off Joss had been for the last few days…not just "off," but afraid of everything that had any potential to hurt her. Okay, Lauren was justified in her concerns…but Joss…well, the same way she hadn't been aware that such an intense fear had come over her, she hadn't been aware that it had also lifted, but it had, and Joss knew why. But explaining to Lauren how Joss's acute fear of the animals had really been her misplaced fear of what Tig would do when he found out about the date with Opie was not something Joss wanted to get into. But, she had to show Lauren she was okay now…because Joss was okay, she'd never been more okay, broken wrist, bite marks and all. "Alright, I realize that I've been having a lot of issues lately," she admitted, but she wasn't done, she wasn't giving up. "And, I know you're busy, but why don't you come up to the ring and evaluate me for a few minutes, and if you don't think I've got it, then okay, fine…I'll get off."

Chapter 106; Part 2

"We both know you got something to say, so you gonna say it or not?" Tig didn't turn around, or even look up to see if Opie was standing there, Tig knew he was. Ope had been hovering all morning, standing just off to wherever Tig was and whatever Tig was doing, pretending to borrow whatever tools Tig had laid out to work with because it gave Ope an excuse to come back and return them…then just stand there, meticulously wiping grease off his hands, but one eye was always on Tig, Tig knew it was.

Ope straightened, looking like he expected fists to fly, but then he just stood. "About what?"

God damn it, there was nothing more frustrating than this shit…big ol' Chewbadooba wasn't going to be much of an SAA if he couldn't fucking take it to somebody, even if he would have been taking to Tig for entirely the wrong reason…Ope had no say here, not as SAA…not as anything. Tig grit his teeth, looked over his shoulder away from the Traverse on the lift. "Don't, man." He warned, shaking his head, expression hard.

Ope shifted his weight from foot to foot for a few seconds, but Tig didn't bother to watch him…Tig had something to say too, but he'd give Ope a chance to make this right first, although he doubted Ope knew how, or if he did know how, that he'd be able to make himself do so. Ope's exhale echoed against the cinder blocks of the bay, his own frustration evident, "You hit her?"

God damn it! Just as Tig thought, it was this bullshit! He threw down the wrench that was in his hand and it clanged loudly against the metal tray, the sound shivering eerily in the air, and just as eerily, Tig didn't look up, just picked up another smaller wrench and looked back at the Traverse like nothing was happening. "You asking as my SAA? Or you asking as something that means it's none of your fucking business anyway?"

Tig sensed Ope sort of take a step back, realizing that the last part of what Tig said was true, but still, he had more heart than brains here and Tig was pretty sure he knew why. "I'm asking because I got a call from Verda this morning, and she's worrie—"

"Verda…" Tig sighed loudly than gave a joyless laugh. That mess had to end too. There was only one way of bringing a woman into this club, and Ope was going some other route that was only going to implode and turn him into Jax and Chupacabre into doctor bitch. Ope needed his own girl; Ope needed any girl that would get him off of Joss, but he didn't need that girl, or Chupacabre at the expense of ending up as 'Jax and Tara; the Sequel!' Tig had seen that coming for awhile but was never more certain of the direction Ope was headed until now. Chupacabre shits in Ope's ear about Joss's ER visit and now Ope was coming to Tig like some God damn cop asking for license and registration? Really? Tig had even tolerated all this out of place, ninety-nine percenter stupid ass bullshit at the beginning, he wasn't himself then, plus he really wanted Ope to find someone who wasn't Joss…but enough was enough now. Tig was Tig again, VP badge and all…and Tig's VP badge outranked Ope's SAA badge! Yeah…it was high time to say something now…Ope was the fucking SAA…he had Tig's old rank, and Tig was going to make damn sure Ope took care of it! "That uppity bitch ain't doin' you any favors, you know."

Ope actually lurched forward on that one, one hand closed into a fist; it gave Tig hope, there was still some fire in that boy. "Just because you're pissed at me, don't bring Verda int—"

"Ain't about her, son." Tig turned, arms crossed over his chest, inviting any swing Ope might want to take, but Ope just stood there as Tig expected. "What the hell you making 'dates' with her for? You want her? Go get her black ass, then! That's how it is!" Jesus fucking Christ…Ope wasn't around in the good old days when any woman a brother saw was fair game…if she didn't come willingly, then drug her, knock her out, then drag her back to the clubhouse and hold her there for as long as she was somehow useful…one way or another, a brother got the girl.

But Ope shook his head, looked like he was about to take back control of this conversation. "We aren't talking about me and Verda."

"The fuck we're not," Tig growled and took a big, bold stride closer to Ope, shoulders pushed out, veins popping in his neck, getting right in Ope's face with a sneer and a stare that strained Tig's eyes, but Ope was going to understand everything once Tig was done talking! "What is this shit with you trying to, and feeling like you're not good enough to, fit into her where she comes from, man? Who fucking cares where she comes from? Why the fuck are you tripping like this? Going to my old lady and asking her shit, letting her cut your hair? Really? Jesus fucking Christ, Ope!" Fuck…Tig should have hit Joss…he should have fucking knocked her out, she should still be lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines while neurologists stood around and pondered if she'd ever be anything more than a lump that drooled all over itself…but those damn extra "Y" chromosomes had finally gotten Tig into trouble in a way he never saw coming; what he felt for Joss far outweighed any want to ever hurt her…when doctor bitch told Tig about his extra "Y's" she mentioned that Tig felt "very intense emotions," that all his feelings were basically on steroids…but Tig didn't know what that meant until now…Joss…he fucking loved her to embarrassing heights…and it sucked ass…but it was also kinda cool at the same time. Besides, Tig and Joss weren't headed to the same place that Ope and Chupacabre were…hmm…doctor bitch…that's who Ope shoulda ended up with! The way doctor bitch was coming around and seeing things, yeah, Ope and her woulda worked so fucking good! But…no…doctor bitch was in Texas…she was gone…she followed Jax…but…hey…doctor bitch was down there spying…that wasn't exactly standing by her man! Hmm…there was still a chance…Tig told doctor bitch he'd get her back to Charming when she needed him to…yeah…Tig really could change her life! And why not? Doctor bitch had changed his with this extra "Y" stuff! But that wasn't the only change to someone life that Tig was intent on making; Ope and Joss…best friends? No…that wasn't going to work…not ever.

Tig was so lost in his match making…that was far off in the future, that he hadn't even noticed whatever Ope had just said, but it didn't sound real challenging…it probably wasn't important then, but he did catch the tail end of "leave her out of this" as it left Ope's mouth and he was standing all hulked up himself, making those two inches he had on Tig known, but Tig was anything but impressed. Tig had an agenda now and nothing else mattered.

Tig narrowed his eyes and got even more into this posturing fight, bursting up to Ope with another huge forwards step until their chests bumped, but Ope didn't step back and neither did Tig…didn't matter…Tig was about to drop him to his knees in a way that Ope really needed to be. "Two things I want you to know, Ope! The first one is that if you ever even say the word 'Joss' again, I'll break her other fucking arm! She's not 'Joss' to you, she's my old lady, and that's all you think when you see her anymore, or I will fuck her up again! You missed out on a lot by not serving in the military, cuz there they don't punish the one actually causing the problems, they punish everyone around them…and that's how this is going to be!" Tig paused, every muscle in both arms tensed as he readied for Ope to respond with some kind of opposition to that plan, ready to dive in and save Joss the way he always did…but he didn't…okay…still, Tig didn't let up, not at all, raging on. "And the second thing is if I ever see you disrespecting those colors one more time by acting like your new bitch is some…fucking queen of England, making some great sacrifice by 'stooping to your backwards level' and choosing inadequate you over some fucking lawyer, or some fucking…president of the world, I'm going to rip that cut off your back myself!"


	107. Director's Cut

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 107

"C'mon," Tig's voice was a brief whisper between the velvet of kisses, their bodies close, hidden behind Joss's truck, his strong arms around her waist and one of her arms around his neck as Tig shoved himself against her, wanting to feel more enveloped by her than he did. Any other time Joss would have rushed to have her arms around him, for it wasn't very often that Tig requested it, but this time, no, it wasn't a good idea.

"I can't," she whispered back to him, Tig's lips closing over hers before she could explain; his tongue drawing her own into his mouth and sucking impatiently at it. This was no ordinary welcome for what had become their usual lunch together at the garage, but this was the overpowering vigor of new ground having been broken between them. It wrapped around them both and pulled them tightly together, binding them there the moment their eyes had met from across the parking lot…two things like nothing else on earth, male matched to female, arcane creatures, mated for life and lost in the darkness they dwelled within. He should have hurt her, if not killed her, both of them knew it; but he didn't, he couldn't. Tig's arms pulled tighter and tighter, biting into the soft sides of her body where her ribcage ended as though he meant to squeeze her in half as he kissed her. Her lungs deflated with an empty sound and her body gave a sudden jerk; she was dizzy in Tig's arms, lost in him, it was impossible to breathe, but Joss knew what it was that spurred him on. He wanted to be closer to her, wanted to feel her body around his, pulling him into her sweet heat just as tightly as he tried to barge his way into it, but she couldn't.

"Why?" He breathed against her lips then dove into her again, pushing her more against the driver's side door of her truck with his big body, trapping her there with no hope of escape…as if Joss wished to. Satisfied by how pinned she was, one of Tig's hands was suddenly beneath her chin, Joss gaining a husky gasp of air as he pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck, his mouth there immediately, the stubble of re-growth on his upper lip digging into her skin first, then his teeth, biting with a jagged gentleness as though he meant to tear off some mouthful of her to further savor. Tig loved her; loved her far too much to hurt her, but more than enough to swallow her down.

"The cast…" Joss's eyes closed, her body tingling with every scrape of his teeth and stroke of his tongue, her words nearly lost to them both. "On my arm…" the cast on her arm, a symbol of their love…but even more than only that…vague footsteps began to scuff their way towards where she and Tig had been interlaced on the opposite side of the truck, someone was coming…the truck seemed like it was pressing painfully into her back more and more, she was reluctantly coming to the surface again, floating out of the swaying depths of such a sumptuous interlude…oh yeah, she couldn't throw her arms around her man, not with the cast. "I don't want to club you in the head with it." She smiled and then laughed a little when Tig let go of her some, standing straight and giving her his usual screwed up face look as he came out of the trance they'd been in as well.

Tig said nothing though, his attention also on the footsteps that came closer and closer, his ice blue eyes narrowed, a mix of defensiveness and aggression glowing in them, an eager readiness to defend his female against whatever was shortly arriving stiffening his muscles; whatever fight may come, it would be all his. And Joss waited, her eyes on her man, watching him watch whoever approached, saw his stubbled upper lip wrinkle as it pulled just slightly up, exposing teeth in a way that was not a smile. Tig was wildly flawless in his viciousness, something to be watched, but not learned from; what he had was not learnable, he could never teach it to her. It was his; it came from a place that only he had. And Tig knew who was coming towards them now, pupils widening until only a thin ring of blue seemed to remain around them, his eyes nearly solid, black circles, and he growled. Joss felt her breathing become shallow and quiet in response, wondering who it was that Tig was so incensed to be seeing, but not at all prepared for how his hands unexpectedly grabbed her around both her upper arms, yanking her away from the truck that was at her back and then with another, louder growl, slamming her back into it so hard the vehicle actually rocked and bounced. Once more the breath rushed out of her body, but she hadn't been thrust back against any part of the truck that wouldn't give; Tig hadn't hurt her, at least, not as much as the rocking and bouncing of the truck suggested he had.

"You're killin' her, Ope!" Tig yelled, voice still guttural and vicious, his strong hands still on Joss's biceps, gripping so hard that her fingers tingled and felt cold, his slit, black eyes still on Ope, though Joss could see nothing and hadn't dared to look at anything other than her man, watching now as the vein in his neck throbbed, able to count his heart rate: one hundred twenty-three, one hundred twenty-four, one hundred twenty-five…well above normal, fueled by adrenaline, ready for a fight. But with whom? Ope was the obvious target, but why had Tig turned on her as well…no, he hadn't hurt her, he couldn't hurt her…questioning why he'd done it wasn't right. Besides, it seemed to have the desired effect; Ope was walking again, in the other direction, moving away from Joss's truck and leaving her and her man to be alone again.

"You okay?" Tig's demeanor changed in an instant, his voice a hoarse whisper, blue eyes looking down at her now, his hand releasing her arms, only to latch onto her own hands and gather them up and press them over his thundering heart, his features softening and going a bit pale as he awaited her answer.

"Yeah," Joss quickly nodded, not wanting him to think he actually had hurt her, or even scared her. "Just a little…surprised."

Tig's eyes sank closed as he sighed his relief then he nodded to her. "I'm sorry, little girl." His hand came forward to press to the side of her face, cupping her jaw and smoothing the softness of her cheek with his thumb. "Gotta make Ope think 'this' happened," he told her and glanced quickly down at Joss's cast. "And he's gotta think he's the reason. I told him he comes near you again, you suffer for it. Maybe he was testing that out, maybe he just wanted to get a look at you and see if I really did fuck you up; whatever. I gotta stand by what I told him."

Joss was nodding, her heart rate still up itself, but now more so because how much Tig loved her was so evident again. He should have hurt her…she looked up at him, suppressing her smile, wanting him know she understood and took this as seriously as he was, because she did. "It's okay," she told him, turning her neck just enough so that she was actually laying her head in his hand, trusting him with her life. "If it strengthens your status, then it saves us both." She closed her eyes, nuzzled his rough palm with her cheek. "I don't want to lose you, not in any way. We'll do whatever we have to do." He should have hurt her…

"Yeah," Tig's arms were around her again, pulling her into him and holding her there, her head now nestled against his broad chest so tightly she could feel the little coils of all the dark hairs that covered it through his polyester garage smock. "We will," he half whispered, pressing a kiss softly to the top of her head, "you love me?"

"I love you," her lips were against his chest as she said it, Tig's big body flinching hungrily with the reverberation of each one on his skin and he held her tighter, just standing with her now in a more tender moment of possession. He should have hurt her…and because he didn't, Joss owed him even more than she ever had before…no matter how good things were now, she'd always be aware of how Tig had covered up a mistake that was hers, not his.

But this new interlude didn't last very long, more footsteps on their way over towards Joss's truck, a light, but clicking kind of step; high heeled boots, and then the doors could be heard unlocking on the Escalade parked next to Joss's Explorer. Gemma appeared around the back of Joss's truck with key fob in hand, sunglasses in place over her smoky eyes and her purse on her shoulder. "Bank run," Gemma announced with some slight degree of apology for having walked up on the affectionate huddle of Tig and Joss. And everything in Tig changed again, but not in a postural way. He remained holding Joss to him though he did let her turn towards Gemma. But his arms were still around Joss, and she could see that Tig's eyes were on Gemma in some sort of…hmm…it wasn't exactly fearful, because Tig wasn't afraid of anything, and it wasn't fear that she felt coursing through him…but her man was remembering something he didn't particularly like to remember as he looked at Gemma. And then Gemma stopped where she stood, pulling her sunglasses down her nose and staring hard at Joss, scrutinizing something. "Nice cast," she said in a tone that wasn't interpretable; it was either disgust and disappointment, or pride and approval…oh no…had Gemma and Tig gotten into…some sort of disagreement…about what Tig had allegedly done to Joss? Tig hadn't mentioned anything about that…but then, he didn't have to…but…but…Gemma was essentially Joss's 'mother,' the name "Morrow" remained part of Joss's identify…and Clay…oh God…how was Joss to conduct herself around them? She knew well how this was supposed to be viewed and treated in any MC…Tig owned her, he could beat her if he liked, right under the noses of parents she was even born to naturally, and they could do or say nothing about it…but if Tig and Gemma had already had a…fight…then…what did Joss do? She stood with her man, of course, but how did she act?

But Gemma was in her Caddy and driving away long before Joss could bring herself to ask, and even if she had, Tig wasn't likely to have heard her; he was far too caught up in whatever his thing with Gemma was, watching her depart as if he wanted to make sure she was gone, and once the Escalade was on the road, Tig gave Joss's arm a tug, beginning to walk back towards the garage. "Let's go."

Joss didn't argue or stall, letting Tig pull her along by the elbow, looking towards the garage bay and feeling a bit relieved that Gemma wouldn't be there to face…but Clay would be…what was she supposed to do? What did Clay and Gemma know or think, and how did they feel about it? "Tig," Joss wanted to hold him up a moment but knew any attempt to would only result in her being dragged along…which while it may have given more credence to the beating she supposedly took, it wasn't what she wanted to have Clay see…not until she knew where her "parents" were in all of this…Clay was right there, talking to Juice about something in the bay doorway, it wouldn't be long before the king looked up and saw her and Tig. "I have to know, what are you telling Clay and Gemma about—"

And Tig stopped short, turning to face her again, looking down at her like she'd asked a question he hadn't entertained an answer to, but was nodding in agreement like this was definitely something that had to be figured out. Joss waited as Tig thought, so confused; perhaps Clay was unaware of the disagreement between Gemma and Tig, it was possible, and if it was, then that was yet another subject to be avoided. Joss looked to Tig, able to see that he'd come to a solution, his clear, blue eyes looking down into hers, his thumb cocking her chin up and holding her face there. "Listen to me," he told her and Joss was wholehearted about getting straight whatever story Tig was about to suggest. "Gemma and Clay know both of us," Tig said, never recoiling, never blinking, "and they love us, too. One look at you, one look at me, and they'll know exactly what went down, baby. Exactly."

Exactly? How would they know exactly? And if they did know "exactly what went down," then what did that mean in the long run…and what was that weird reaction that Tig had to Gemma then? Joss only felt more confused now and she looked up to Tig with a furrowed brow, but before she even had to speak, Tig cut her off.

"They'll know, baby," he assured her, his voice secretive, tipping her head up to his even more, his stare hard but not angry. "You got a cast on your arm, and I haven't put a gun in my mouth, and Clay and Gemma both know that's what I'd fucking do if I ever fucking hurt you."

And the weight of his love for her came crashing down on Joss again, smothering her in a way that felt so undeserved…he should have hurt her…but he'd never be able to…it was stunning, literally stunning, Joss too jubilant to even move. Her eyes just stared back up at Tig's, loving him back with an intensity that threatened to beat her as senseless as Tig should have, the words "I'm sorry" nearly pushed out of her a thousand times by what filled her up…but once again, there were footsteps…

"How's my girl?" Clay's unusual "friendly" growl pulled Joss and Tig from each other, and it was supposed to, every word so carefully chosen by Clay, saying what he meant, cutting to the quick, reminders a foot, but all in a way that sounded so ordinary. Even his stance was ordinary; he smiled at Joss, but looked at Tig, waiting to see which one would answer first.

"Great!" Joss smiled exuberantly; she knew her place here, Tig had been subtle in telling her what to do, but she'd understood nonetheless, and she'd also known what Clay was asking, what he was really asking. Still smiling, with very little effort put into doing so…Tig loved her…he loved her so incredibly much…Joss took a step towards her man, entwining her injured arm with his, seeking contact with Tig openly and smiling even more as his strong hand wrapped over her fingers where they stuck out of her cast. "Found approved homes for two cats and all the puppies today!" she reported happily, knowing to just say nothing about Tig, no showy vows of love or distracting words of praise.

Clay regarded her for a moment, looking at the picture of her and Tig together, his eyes going to the most subtlest things, how closely she stood to Tig, whether her body was near his, or did she just lean towards him? Were both her feet pointed towards him, or was one askew so that she could run away from him? But Joss knew she would pass this test, because she had no reason to be afraid of her man. And with a few more glances at Tig and a few more seconds deliberation, Clay knew that as well, reaching out to Joss with a genuine smile this time and pulling her away from an objection-less Tig and into the usual bear-hug, the conversation resuming where Joss had left it, but as Clay hugged her, Joss peered out at Tig, a hint of a smile on his face too as he nodded. She'd done good; everything was fine…almost…there was still that possible argument between Tig and Gemma. But right now, it felt good to be in Clay's strong embrace and know that her "father" had no concerns or worries. "Good," he told her as he set her feet back down on the pavement, "sounds like you gals are making it work over there," Clay smiled, then something Joss liked sparkled in his blue eyes even before she knew what it was. "How's it going with the all horses?"

"Oh," Joss groaned, but smiled still. She'd been waiting to talk to Clay about the horses! Tig had said Clay had, at least in part, grown up with horses on his grandparents ranch, and ever since the weddings, Joss hadn't had very many occasions to hang out with Clay the way she used to. A few minutes of 'horse talk' with him would be wonderful! "They're keeping us busy," she admitted, but it was a proud admission. "But we've got about seven solid mounts now, so things could be a lot worse."

"Yeah, it could be." Clay agreed; then he glanced at Tig again, talking to Joss, but not really. "If that arm's doing okay," he began and Joss could tell he waited for Tig's nod, and to her surprise it came, then Clay's eyes shifted back to Joss. "I'll give ya a call tomorrow afternoon, tell ya to saddle up two of those 'solid mounts' and we'll go check out those trails Juice mentioned around the farm."

And Joss grinned like a kid on Christmas morning…this was so much better than a few minutes of 'horse talk!' "Yeah!" She nearly jumped up and down as she said it. "Let's do that! I can't wait!" And then Joss blushed deeply, realizing she was jumping up and down, hands moving like there were sticks in them and she was sitting a drum set, but Clay and Tig both laughed, Tig putting both his hands on her shoulders and pulling her back against him as he shook his head, whispering something about "hard to get" sarcastically in her ear that made Joss laugh.

"I'll call you," Clay smiled, still laughing at how animated Joss could be when she was happy and excited. But he was himself, satisfied both with their riding plans, and with the truth he'd discovered, turning to Tig with a smug, knowing look of consent as he held Joss and kept her from bouncing, and Clay nodded again. "Keep her reined in."

Author's Note: My deepest sympathies and most sincere wishes for strength and comfort go out to Verda Napoli. I am sincerely sorry to hear of your loss, and you continue to be in my thoughts and prayers.

To everyone else, thank you for reading and reviewing! Keep those "favorite parts" of yours coming, because I'm hoping to tie this whole thing up with an ending that truly makes this "our story!" You all helped write it one way or another, so it's the least I can do! Thanks much, to all, once again!


	108. Out of the Bag

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 108

Joss was mostly awake anyway when her phone rang, a good half hour earlier than she had to get up. She'd been too excited to sleep, had been thinking of her trail ride with Clay ever since lunch the day before, couldn't decide which horse to put him up on…she wasn't even sure how well Clay rode, or how long ago it had been since he rode…but he very likely was used to a western saddle, not an english saddle…so that narrowed the choice of horses down to which of the Drafts could comfortably wear the one western saddle she and Lauren had. Joss was leaning towards the lighter bodied, leopard spotted Appaloosa Draft cross, thinking the western saddle might fit him the best, and Appaloosa's were usually associated with cowboys, after all. And she could so see Clay under the wide brim of a sharp looking black felt Resistol! Yeah, when Joss finally did "wake up" wake up she'd still be smiling at her choice of horses! But for the moment it was laying here beside a sleeping Tig that was making her smile; everything was so good with them now…not that it was bad before…well, not in the recently "before," but things were just…yeah, he was her man and he loved her so damn much! So damn much that there was nothing Joss could do, or wanted to do, to change how saturated with Tig she felt. She longed for some way to sneak beneath him now as he slept just to feel him above her, to live in that brief mirage of a moment when his weight sank against her body and it felt like his form may come all the way through her skin, into her body, where they really would be one thing. Tig…he dominated her feelings and her thoughts, and Joss loved every moment of it…even if stupid things like how her looping Tig longings and thoughts mixed with those of Clay, which lead to thoughts of Gemma…and once more Joss was beginning to contemplate Tig's reaction the day before when the queen had hammered past in her high heels…Tig and Gemma had to have tangled somehow…there was something between them, Joss was now certain of that…and then "Bad Company's" title track shattered the epiphany.

Why Joss thought she'd be able to answer Lauren's call before it woke Tig she wasn't sure, he was knotted around her, arms and legs keeping her close to his core, to his heart…though Tig wasn't likely to see it that way, but even his chin tucked her head to the center of his chest. And it all made for a complicated escape; her man's crystal blue eyes opening before Joss even got the phone in her hand. Tig flinched awake as Joss put the phone to her ear, mouthing the word "Lauren" to her sleepy man before she said her own groggy "hello."

"Joss," Lauren sounded uprooted…again. Great…Joss by now knew that tone of voice from Lauren…so what had gotten dumped at the rescue the night before now? "I don't care what you're doing; just put your clothes back on and get over here, now!"

Joss couldn't help but smile a bit; Lauren got so authoritative when she was freaked out…and in a way that was good, someone had to be that voice in an emergency…but the day would come when Joss didn't take orders from anyone…but Tig. However, most of this was just the start up stress of running the rescue; this bossiness wasn't Lauren, not really, so Joss didn't mind too much, no one was exactly themselves at this stage of the game. "What's up?" Joss asked, trying to clear the sleepiness and a little happier when she watched Tig's clear, blue eyes close again, knowing he was listening, but now she didn't feel so much like she was bothering him. And then Joss remembered exactly what Lauren had said and began to laugh a little. "And why do you automatically assume I don't have clothes on?"

Lauren sighed and Joss could tell she was shaking her head. "You married Tig," she said flatly, sounding like having to take the time to explain that was the last thing she could spare, and just like always, Joss could now here Juice in the background, hear his boots scuffle on the loose gravel near the barn and he was saying something about "get those things we roast marshmallows with! Then we can open the zipper!" Joss knew this wasn't a laughing matter, at least, not for Lauren, and so Joss tried hard and swallowed her giggle, but it got a bit harder when Lauren cut out of the phone conversation to once again keep Juice in line, telling him in a tight voice, "I do not want anything that goes in the kitchen anywhere near whatever is in there, and the last thing I want is to do is open that sleeping bag!"

"What?" Joss nearly shouted, making Tig's eyes pop open again as she laughed, but when she realized she was disturbing she shot him a heartfelt apologetic cringe and decided that perhaps the living room was a better place for this conversation.

"Just get over here!" Insisted Lauren, and she sounded like she was heavily distracted, lots of gravel rolling around under boots and some small groans of protests, Joss surmising that Lauren was pulling Juice…and possibly a marshmallow roasting stick, away from the mentioned sleeping bag…a sleeping bag? Really?

Joss was overly curious now and couldn't stop with the questions. "You could at least tell me what it's about! Honestly, how is a sleeping bag such a big deal? What's wrong with you?"

"Hey, look! I can get it now!" Juice was heard hollering like he'd just solved one of the mysteries of life and Joss could faintly hear a big, metal zipper slowly coming undone, as if Juice were standing a respectable distance away from it as he unzipped it, but Lauren…she wasn't happy, telling Juice to "get away from the damn sleeping bag" and to "go clean every speck of yak hair off of the basement couch!" And again Joss wanted to laugh; covering her mouth now…but…was Juice, like, hanging with his yak friend in the basement den? He could have been…there was a ground level sliding glass door there, it would be easy to get the yak into the basement, if the yak was obliged to go in. But before the mental image of Juice on the couch, beside a big black yak, both of them chewing mouthfuls of Chex Party Mix and watching ESPN was complete, Lauren joined Joss again on the phone. "Look," she said as if she'd had enough of Juice, Joss and the sleeping bag. "I got up this morning and there's a big, green sleeping bag lying in front of the barn. And it's moving!" She paused to sigh in sheer exasperation. "And I'm not opening it by myself, and all I have here is…is…"

"Juice?" Joss filled in, and once more tried not to laugh.

"Exactly!" Lauren fumed, and that was that, the line clicking dead.

If Lauren only knew how funny she was when things weren't going her way; Joss was still smiling and shaking her head as she ended the call on her phone. She was more than curious about what was in that sleeping bag…and if Juice would have it open and the critter running free by the time she got to the rescue, but before Joss could leave, she had to run it past Tig. She hated to wake him this early, but he was already awake, she could hear him starting down the steps, emerging from the red stairwell in jeans and an old Reaper T-shirt, his garage shirt slung over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby," Joss's voice was pained as she approached him and she truly did feel badly about her work effecting him, but Tig said nothing, just yawned and walked passed her to the kitchen, his attitude still yet to be determined, and Joss was quick to follow him there, knowing to set up the coffee at a real gesture of apology.

"What the hell, Joss?" He sounded a little more annoyed than he usually did, flinging himself down into a kitchen chair and looked up at her like he knew she was expecting him to be pissed, and didn't want to disappoint her.

"I don't know," Joss sighed, rushing over to the sink and filling a large cup with water to pour into the coffee maker. "Something's up at the farm and Lauren's having a trauma about it."

"What happened?" Tig rubbed at one eye still with two fingers but perked up a bit, whether due the building smell of coffee or his interest about the latest mystery at the farm, Joss wasn't sure. And then his brow creased a bit. "The horses okay?" He asked, some worried tones mixing into his annoyance.

"Yeah," Joss assured and smiled, always so touched by how much concern Tig still had for the animals he'd rescued himself…and then ate the guy he'd rescued them from…but, that wasn't something Joss let herself think about for too long. "But, do you mind if I go in a little early today? Someone dropped off a…moving sleeping bag." And once more Joss tried not to laugh, shrugged her shoulders instead, as if anyone could look casual when saying such a thing.

"A what?" Tig screwed up his face. "What the fuck's in it?"

"Well," Joss sighed. "We don't know yet, that's why Lauren wants me to come over as soon as I can, so we can find out."

Tig cocked his head, eyes a bit squinted like he was thinking hard about everything that could possibly be inside a moving sleeping bag, weighing all the risks and dangers, but apparently not coming up with anything bloodcurdling enough to make him screw up his face a second time. "Alright," his broad shoulders shrugged, looking even more casual than Joss had tried to, and then he turned in his chair, looking towards the cabinet that housed most of the cereal and other breakfast foods. "We got Pop-Tarts?"

"Blueberry, but with no icing," Joss answered regretfully; ready for Tig to screw up his face that time, and he did, but moved along.

"And beef jerky?" He asked, brightening a bit more when the coffee maker percolated to life, the first few drips of hot caffeine juice plinking into the carafe.

"Jerky and Pop-Tarts?" Joss repeated, feeling guilty about leaving early now, but Tig was cool.

"Yeah, it's like toast with jelly and some sausage, right?" He said; making it all sound so much more balanced than it really was, and he seemed bent on sticking to his breakfast menu, waving her towards the kitchen doorway. "Go, I'm good."

"If you say so," Joss sighed, but then she didn't really want to be too condescending about her man's breakfast of champions. If Tig was happy with Pop-Tarts and Slim Jims, might as well let him be happy…he was going to work…and Gemma would be there…and there was something between those two, something Joss was yet to figure out, but was braced for the impact of nonetheless.

"Hey," before she was completely out of the kitchen Tig was calling to her, snapping his fingers in the air with the suddenness of what he'd just remembered. "You and Clay are going riding today, right?"

"Yeah," Joss smiled, unable not to smile when she thought about it, and the odd thing was that Tig seemed the same way…like he was suppressing some happy grin.

"Alright," Tig rubbed at his mouth meanderingly until any hint of a smile was gone. "See if he can bring you home, cuz I'm going to stop over at the farm and steal your truck," and he rubbed at his mouth again, really denying that smile its existence, and Joss was even more curious about Tig taking her truck than she was what was in the sleeping bag. Tig only got in a cage when it was club business…but he was taking her truck? She looked back at him with questions abounding on her face, but Tig only shrugged his broad shoulders again and concealed the hell out of that same smile. "What? I need it for something."

Author's Note: OMG! Wow! Over 500 reviews! I never thought I'd see such a thing by something I wrote! Thank you all for helping me to achieve this milestone! This truly is something I could not have accomplished without you all, but then again, most of the good parts and the images and passages that work so well, are also examples of what I could have never done without you! All of you are tremendously wonderful and I cannot thank you enough for reading and for commenting!

Also, I hope you all will join me in welcoming back DETZER, aka Happy's "Lauren!" You've been sorely missed, but having you back and knowing you are doing so well, is more than enough to make up for it!:-)

Grace


	109. Snake Charmer

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 109

"Oh!" Joss felt herself jump as if she wasn't expecting to see what quickly poked its head out of the sleeping bag, even though she knew what had to be in there. "Juice, get back!" She stood up from her crouch a bit but didn't move, only swiftly stretched her arm out behind her to shield Juice in the classic "soccer mom arm save" as though he were riding in the passenger seat of the car Joss was driving and she'd abruptly hit the brakes. Juice wasn't ready to deal with this…Joss wasn't sure she was, despite all the reading she'd done when Tig had gone on that run to Indio all those months ago. Tig…Joss hoped that there were no snakes waiting for Tig at work today…the more she thought about it, and she couldn't help but think about it, the more this Gemma and Tig thing was worrying her. What happened between them?

"What is it?" Juice respected the boundary of Joss's arm but still stood as close as he could, peering down into the sleeping bag with edgy eagerness, reminding Joss of a kid caught between wanting to see the monster in the movie but too afraid of the nightmares that may follow if he did. But Joss didn't have to answer Juice's question, for a loud, long hiss soon informed all of what the sleeping bag contained. Lauren was going to freak out…yet again!

"Oh, don't tell me…" Lauren was standing back even further than Juice was, but now Juice was backing up until he stood beside his new wife, leaving Joss the only one that still stood next to the squirming sleeping bag. Joss still wasn't exactly sure just what they had here yet, she wasn't even sure what to do now, but she glanced over her shoulder to see if Lauren had any ideas or directives about where to take their latest charge…letting it out certainly didn't seem to be the best of ideas. But Lauren was ashen, couldn't find the words she really wanted to say, just stood there with Juice, almost hiding behind him as she shook her head in denial of what she already knew to be true. "It's a really big snake, isn't it?"

Admittedly, Joss was a bit stunned too…puppies, yaks and even emus showing up on the rescue's door step were one thing, but she'd never imagined giant snakes would be the order of the day. Giant snakes…Tig would call, or something, if he and Gemma had it out today at work, right? Maybe Gemma would call? No, Joss didn't want to get that call from Gemma! Good thing Clay was coming today, maybe he could fill Joss in on what the hell was with Tig reacting all… uncomfortable the minute Gemma looked at Joss's cast. Tig said that Clay and Gemma "would know" what really happened…so, if Gemma really knew how Joss's wrist got broken, why was Tig still so apprehensive around Gemma…like the queen was a big snake in a sleeping bag? Okay, enough…there was a literal big snake in a sleeping bag, and it was going to require Joss's full attention. This snake thing was on her now…not so much because it was somehow her fault, but because she was obviously the only person standing here who wasn't terrified or about to come utterly unglued over a snake. Well…Juice was still sort of hanging in, he was standing closer than Lauren was and his eyes were still on the sleeping bag, watching with cautious amazement…but Joss wasn't ready to call him a solid source of back up just yet. Okay…maybe if she stayed calm about this, then Lauren would be calm too and Juice would man up a little bit more? Joss was going to need help with this snake…it was pretty large. "Well," Joss bent back down and gave the zipper of the sleeping bag a quick, even tug, closing it up again and keeping the snake secure while she and Lauren hashed this situation out. "I'm going to have to get him out of there to see just how big, but…yeah, it's a big snake." She couldn't help but end her statement with a repentant "yeah;" not many people liked snakes…Lauren apparently was one of them.

"Oh my God…" Lauren's authoritativeness had vanished; she was now a stiff legged, jumpy little girl, brushing at her arms with her hands as though something was crawling all over her skin. "Can't deal!" She announced to both Joss and Juice without any shame or hesitation. "Yes, I know, the barn cats are always catching those little red ribbon garter snake things and then and bringing them to us, but this is…nope…I'm going in the house!"

Joss rolled her eyes, she'd read too much about snakes to let Lauren's herpetological confusion stand. "Lar, Ribbon Snakes and Garter Snakes are two different species, but the barn cats do catch them both. The Garter Snakes are usually the bigger ones that sometimes have red scales, the Ribbon Snakes do sorta look like some of the Garter Snakes, but Ribbon Snakes will always have a little, light yellow dot right in front of their eye—"

"Joss!" Lauren wasn't in the mood for a nature lecture…Joss should have known that, but she couldn't pass on an opportunity to share knowledge like that with someone who clearly lacked it. But Lauren wasn't impressed, or very embracing of the expanse of horizons that Joss was offering her, she was about to turn around and walk away. "Going in the house," she stated again, this time more emphatically, "the creepy-crawlies are all yours!"

Creepy-crawlies…Tig and Gemma…that was feeling more and more like it was all Joss's too…but hey, at least this was a worry that had nothing to do with Opie for a change! And then, as if on cue the sleeping bag moved at Joss's feet, the big snake's nose finding the heel of Joss's tall, black riding boot and testing it through the thick fabric, pushing at it, but Joss took no real notice, standing there contemplating how she was going to handle this snake by herself…this was a big snake…and no snake over seven feet should be handled by one person alone…Joss remembered reading that…and she had no idea just how big this big snake was…no idea how big the snake was…Tig and Gemma…what the hell had happened there? Did it mesh with why Tig needed Joss's truck? If it did, Joss really didn't want to know what that meant…oh God…Tig might have ate a guy, but he wouldn't have a fight with Gemma and then need Joss's truck to haul the queen's mutilated body…no, that was silly! Besides, Tig had been a mix of happy and goofy when he'd said he needed Joss's truck, so there must not have been anything negative about what he needed it for. But still…what happened between her man and her "mother?" No, the snake, the literal, actual snake, focus on it! Joss watched Lauren, a bit surprised that she was actually leaving, abandoning Joss to serpents. "But…" Joss sputtered, but Lauren kept walking, didn't look back, Joss was on her own. She sighed, "Why do I get all the creepy-crawlies?"

Lauren kept on walking, but did finally look back over her shoulder at Joss with that smug, amused smirk she'd had the day they'd tried to worm Steve. "You married Tig."

Joss sighed, her hands on her hips as she shook her head…she was getting really tired of that defense…but…well, she had married Tig, and she was the only one who could deal with this snake…maybe. Joss glanced up to see that Juice was still standing there, looking between her and the sleeping bag. He was the one who was so eager to open the sleeping bag when Lauren had called Joss…but how was he liking it now? "So," she said and sighed once more. "You in?"

Juice fidgeted, wiping his hands on his garage shirt like they were dirty, though they weren't. "What…are you going to do?"

"Well, I need to get him out of here, so I can a look at him, make sure he's not sick or injured…and see what he is," Joss added, then looked back at Juice with the hope of not making the next part sound as scary as she knew it was going to. But Juice, as muscled up as he was, couldn't have been a better partner in this…assuming he could handle…handling a snake. "I'll take the head; you just need to hold his body. I can tell this is some kind of a large constrictor, so your job is making sure he doesn't loop a few coils around me and…kill me."

Juice's first response was a nervous laugh…not good. "Oh, if that's all I have to do," he said sarcastically, but seemed to shake it off and then walked closer to Joss, the sleeping bag and the snake. "Alright," he was nodding now, slapping his fist into his other hand repeatedly, pumping himself up. "Yeah, I've taken bigger ones for the club, let's do this!"

Chapter 109; Part 2

"Joss, I don't know," Clay was as skeptical as Joss expected him to be, standing there with his big arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses still on. She hadn't given him much time to look around the farm, or even make it down to the barn before she'd sprung this snake idea on him, so she didn't blame him. And it figured that she had this snake issue to deal with…it was Gemma and Tig that she really wanted to talk to Clay about…not snakes! Only Clay was more worried about Joss than he was having issues with the snakes. His cool blue eyes drifted back to Joss's cast, focused on the little jagged edges of red fiberglass that were no longer flat, sticking up like tiny little distress flags. "The damn thing already bit you once."

"It bit my cast, I'll live." Joss was smiling, making light of it…but yeah, the big, thick bodied, six feet long Malaysian Blood Python striking at her had elicited a yelp out of her and Juice alike…but right after, they were both laughing, so it was okay. And now things felt kind of even with Tig in a very good way…Tig took a hit from a harmless Gopher Snake some months back…now she and her man were both in that snake-bit club, together…Joss smiled, it made her feel good, good enough to keep trying to persuade Clay. "Both of them are so gorgeous, Clay! You should see them! The Brazilian Rainbow Boa is a coppery orange, with black circular markings, and when the slightest bit of light hits him, he looks like a prism! Every color of the rainbow…which, I guess is why they're called 'rainbow boas,'" Joss laughed, so excited that she didn't even realize how geeky she sounded, and Clay set his jaw and nodded, listening but still not swayed. "And the Blood Python! He's so pretty! I mean, he's a little grumpy, yeah…but then, Blood Pythons are either very docile or very…not docile, and this one is the latter." Joss was talking a mile a minute, still so enthused about what was in the sleeping bag…she'd only seen one snake initially, but finding two of them, two beautiful, highly sought after snakes, had her really excited! But she shouldn't have mentioned the "grumpy" part; she was losing Clay and scrambled to lure him back again. "But he's so cool, Clay! He's a big, fat, oxblood colored dude with all kinds of yellow and cream and caramel markings on him! And he weighs a ton! Fat snake! Really fat, strong snake!"

"Name that one 'Bobby.'" Clay chuckled, and it kind of gave Joss hope that maybe he was impressed and was about to agree to her plan, but he only smiled, all be it proudly, at her, but didn't give her the answer she hoped for. "I never knew you were so into snakes."

Joss tried not to look dejected, shrugged her shoulders. "Well, me either until this morning, I guess." Some of her enthusiasm was dampened, but she wasn't giving up, not yet. "They're both in pretty good shape, except for a little bit of mouth rot, but a some Listerine diluted down with some water and applied with an oral syringe will fix them up. It'll get a lot worse if no one helps them out now…that's all they need, just a little help." Joss repeated, trying to sound positive, but she didn't quite escape looking pouty…and Clay saw it.

Now Clay sighed, looking a little bit weakened, took a seat on his bike sideways as he pulled his sunglasses off and tapped the tip of the earpiece to his lower lip. "Not much on snakes, personally, but I like the idea of the clubhouse having snakes, I do." He said, but Joss knew not to get too hopeful. "But I don't like that you're who will be taking care of them." Joss opened her mouth to reassure Clay that she could handle it, that Juice, while not exactly comfortable with it, could help her, but Clay spoke again, the ultimate question hanging in his mouth. "Tig going to be okay with that?"

Joss felt slammed into a wall…Tig…she wasn't sure how he felt about snakes being that he thought one was going to kill him once, but she was pretty sure Tig would say "no" to keeping the snakes at their house; the clubhouse really was the only option. Tig…Joss hadn't been able to have lunch with him today because of her trail ride with Clay, and she was feeling anxious about not knowing what the mood was between her man and Gemma at the garage. She could only hope that everything was copacetic. Clay wasn't giving off any vibes that meant otherwise though, so Joss made herself relax her Tig and Gemma worries one more time. Tig…and snakes…and this thing with Gemma…no, again, focus on the snakes! The rescue needed those snakes; even if Lauren was pretty adamant about them not staying at her farm. "I don't know what Tig would say to that," it wasn't like she could, or would, lie to Clay anymore than she could or would like to Tig. But this proposal of hers could be done and over, shut down, right here, right now. No…that wasn't acceptable…that big, fat python and that prismatic boa were far too valuable to lose just because no one wanted to keep them on their property! Joss took a deep breath and squared up, trying one last time to convince Clay of what a good idea this really was. "I can't say for sure," she admitted, but stayed strong. "But I think Tig might be more…tolerant of me taking care of the snakes, at the clubhouse, if he knows it's only temporary." She stepped closer, looking up at Clay, hoping to appeal to his sense of business now. "And it is temporary. I just need to get their mouths fixed up; after that, we advertise them for sale. Both of them are highly sought by collectors, and they are particularly valuable at the sizes they both are." Clay was listening, really listening, even if he was smiling a little bit at her. "It would only be for a few weeks, that's all. The club and the rescue both make money off the sale, and that works, doesn't it?"

Clay was silent…oh God, she hadn't just sounded like Jax, did she? But she must not have, Clay was showing obvious signs of mulling it over now, and while he did, Joss's worry shifted from her dear, dear "brother" and back to Tig and Gemma, tamping down a building urgency to blurt out some unrelated question about how Gemma and Tig were today that wouldn't sound weird and contrived. But long before any of that could happen, Hayley called to Joss, walking up the gravel covered hill from the barn with a halter and a lead shank in her hands, asking her if it was the Appaloosa Draft cross that Joss wanted brought in from the field, and the mention of the horse got Clay's attention quickly…which any other time would have made Joss smile…but right now, she really needed an answer…and some clue as to how her man's day was going.

"Appaloosa?" Clay stood up straight again, smiling more as he looked at Joss. "When I was a kid, that's what I learned to ride on, an App!"

Well, how could Joss fight that? She was smiling brightly now, so excited over Clay's nostalgic zeal…sharing a happy little shiver with Hayley who also loved horses, and people who loved horses, as much as Joss did. Joss knew she'd picked the right horse! "Cool!" For now, she'd just have to let the snake thing go…and if she could, the Tig and Gemma thing too. She was going riding with Clay, and that really did make her happy. Joss nodded to Hayley about the big Appaloosa cross, turning to Clay again, her initial giddiness returned and now eager to show him all around the farm and all of the animals, besides the snakes. "This is Hayley," she told Clay with a smile, reaching out and stopping Hayley from going about her work so that introductions could be made. Hayley should know who Clay was! "She's the barn manager…that Tig hired." Joss laughed.

Again Clay chuckled, turning towards Hayley with an outstretched hand. "Hi, Hayley, I'm Clay," he said, shaking her hand as softly and gracefully as anyone with bear paws like Clay had could, but Hayley smiled back at him, probably about to ask how it was that he and Joss knew each other, and that's when Clay's smile broadened, and he stole a quick glance at Joss, smiling even more before he looked back at Hayley. "I'm Dad."

Author's Note: Thank you all for continuing to read and sorry for the jostled times of when new chapters are going up. I know it's got some of you messed up too. My fault; my old man's in Sturgis, South Dakota for the Bike Rally this week and I got left behind for medical reasons, so I'm sort of enjoying not being on such a rigid schedule for awhile. But, you all are so fantastic that writing is of course my main priority, behind my horses, of course.:-) Thanks again for all your support and for putting as much of yourselves into this story with your comments as I have!

In other news: The Tijo photo album has been updated and is still accessible via the link in my profile page. Here's hoping the latest steamy Tijo pic doesn't get axed by Photobucket! Thanks again for everything! - Grace


	110. Dinner Bell

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 110

It didn't take that long to get from Tig's house to the farm, and it made perfect sense to have Juice follow behind Tig, so that Tig could drop his bike off at the house, then ride back in the flatbed with Juice to the farm so Tig could pick up Joss's truck and set about his errands…but that didn't mean it was a very good idea. Tig loved his club and he loved his brothers, Juice included, but every damn time he ended up serving one on one time with Juice, Tig was once again reminded of how much he'd failed Juice as a sponsor. Really, what was wrong with the big, brown skinned, muscle head? Tig was often accused…by everyone…to be living in his "own world," and okay, Tig wouldn't argue that; his wheelhouse was filled with gurgburbling mousetits and platypussies shooting poison out of their asses, but Juice…holy shit, Juice was really fucked up! It was like every morning Juice woke up under a fucking rainbow that stuck around to brighten the rest of his entire day…that wasn't right! That had been why Juice became Tig's prospect, someone had to knock that shit out of him…but if Tig couldn't do it, then no one was ever going to…and it sucked. And Juice talked about much weirder shit than Tig did…well…okay, so really the difference there was that Juice actually talked about his weird shit, whereas with Tig, weird shit just bounced around inside his head all day, but it never really made it to the outside world…at least, not in actual words it didn't…so, yeah, that still meant Juice was more fucked up than Tig was! And now, Tig was trapped in the cab of the flatbed with him for a good sixteen minutes.

"I just don't get it," Juice was saying, still harping on the same sappy point he'd been making the moment they'd pulled out of Tig's driveway. "It's the perfect solution to the problem she and I have! But she's always shuttin' me down!" This apparently was some kind of "let's bond as husbands" cozy bullshit that Tig wanted no part of, kept wishing his phone would ring, or Juice's phone would ring, or the flatbed would go wildly out of control, crash into a tree and explode…okay, so maybe that was a bit extreme, but still, whatever it took to shut Juice the fuck up! Tig didn't like being a 'husband;' he liked being married to Joss…as long as no one fucking knew that he liked it, but there was something in the word "husband" that connoted mini-vans and pot bellies and toenail fungus and Rogaine…toenail fungus? What the hell? Toenail fungus wasn't a marriage thing; it was an army thing…well, sort of…but that's what Tig was told in his Officer Basic Course, always keep his feet dry…dry feet, dry socks and dry boots equaled no fungus. But really? If a shrink were to do a word association with him right now, and they said "husband," Tig would answer with "toenail fungus?" Jesus fucking Christ…whatever, bottom line, none of that "husband" shit was anything Tig wanted associated with what he was, damn it! Juice on the other hand…he was diehard "husband!" But it could have been worse…Tig had to applaud the retard for not being stupid enough to sit there in the driver's seat and be giving Tig the stink eye for allegedly roughing Joss up. Joss was popular with the club, everyone liked her, but no one had said shit about what Tig claimed to have done to her…not even Bobby, who Tig had worried about being the most overly protective of Joss. Had Tig actually hit her, he had no doubt that Gemma, not Clay, would have been the biggest problem…Gemma…there was something around Gemma that Tig realized he still had to deal with…and Joss was starting to sense that, he could tell. It was prickly and awkward, but Tig would never admit to the club that he hadn't beat Joss and broken her wrist…SAMCRO had to believe she'd fucked up and then paid for it appropriately even more than they had to believe Tig would make her pay appropriately for fucking up. Bad things happened when a bitch screwed up, but got away with it…bad things…and every time Tig looked at Gemma, he knew what those bad things were. Tig and Joss were due their secrets, they were married, Tig owned her, there would always be things between them that no one else would ever know…but when there was something between any woman, queen or not, and a man who wasn't her husband…yeah…bad things…

But well above the darkness of Tig's thoughts, Juice's silly, weird shit played on the surface like sunshine on a rippling garden pond. The idiot sat behind the wheel shaking his mohawked head, still defending his position to Tig…who really didn't care and didn't want to hear it more than he didn't care. But there was no stopping Juice. "I mean, I thought they wanted us to want to do things with them, right? But every time I talk about it, Lauren just rolls her eyes at me."

Tig's upper front teeth were dug into the inside of his bottom lip as much as they could be without actually drawing blood…he didn't want to be part of this conversation, but even though Tig had failed Juice as a sponsor, the dumb kid still looked to Tig for advice about…everything. As much as Tig didn't want to answer, he knew he was going to. He was going to be king one day, he'd have everyone looking to him then…might as well start finding his way in this "husband" shit before it really was on him from all directions and he had no idea how to deal with any of it. But this was going to suck! It was going to suck bad! However, there was a chance that it might just end after Tig gave Juice an answer…and that chance was worth taking. "Look, bro," Tig sighed, shaking his head himself, his hands coming up in front of himself like he wanted to have something to duck behind while he spoke. "Just let her have her own shit and you stay out of it, okay? That's the kinda shit it's okay for her to not have you in."

Juice sighed again and looked very dejected, obviously not happy with Tig's answer, but he got quiet and sort of deflated a little behind the wheel, looking out at the road like maybe this really was over. What was with wanting to spend so much time with a wife unless it was about fucking her? Juice…Tig would never get him…not ever. However, just as Tig thought it really might be over, Juice puffed up his already puffed up chest and spouted off again. "But Lauren's always up there, in the riding ring, by herself and I feel like I should be up there with her! And she knows that I'm not so great on horses so…" Juice paused, gathering emphasis for his next words and Tig could only brace for it, here it came, more of Juice's weird shit, hung out and flapping in the breeze for everyone to see. "If she can go horseback riding, why can't I go yak-back riding?"

"Jesus Christ," Tig moaned and his face collapsed into his hands, hiding from Juice's stupid fucking words and his stupid fucking feelings…this was a long long long sixteen minute ride. Yak-back riding? Yeah…this was exactly the kind of shit that the club had wanted Tig to knock out of Juice as a prospect…and yeah, Tig sure as shit had failed. Even worse than that, Juice didn't seem to notice the dank, dark, shameful little corner that Tig was now trying to hide himself in.

"You and Joss ever do stuff together?" Juice asked with a quick glance at Tig, as casual and normal as he could be, not stressing, not even hopeful of an answer…just more weird Juice shit falling out of his mouth.

That was it, though. Tig couldn't do this anymore. Tig had been through a lot of psychological counseling himself, but he wasn't doctor…doctor…shit, that big, bald headed, white guy with the suit and the 'stache…Oprah's husband…doctor…oh fuck it, there was way too much fucking toenail fungus everywhere! "Hey," Tig felt the word rumble in his chest as he turned towards Juice, hawking over him even though Tig was sitting down, about to put an end to this dog fart of a conversation in the firmest, but most advice ridden way that he could. "All I can tell you, man, is don't wear wet socks! A'ight?"

And then there was the most impossible sound. Silence! Finally! Silence was good, silence didn't make Tig unconsciously curl his toes up in his boot to keep them away from the fungus…but silence did make him realize that he and Joss maybe didn't do quite enough together. They fucked…a lot…and he wasn't trading that, but his sweet, dark, perfect angel had been worried about losing time with him now that he was moving up the ranks of command. Shit…not only did Tig not like thinking about this kind of puke, but he hated having come up with an idea to fix it even more. But it was a good one…and really, Joss should be involved in the project he was about to undertake. Well…okay…that was settled then…and even though it was some really stupid fucking shit to be happy about, Tig was happy about it. Working on this with Joss might even be the bridge he needed to work out the Gemma shit that was weighing heavier and heavier on him, too. Okay…Tig was feeling better about being happy now…and he was really looking forward to picking up Joss's truck to…because not only was that how his plan would get it's start, but also because it really would be fucking terrific to be out of the cab of the flatbed…Juice was about to start talking again.

"What does that mean?" Juice had this utterly spacey look on his face, even more so than the usual spacey look, eyes shifting side to side as his lips quietly repeated the words Tig had said to him.

God fucking damn it! Every time Tig thought he was out, Juice pulled him back in! What? Juice was 'the Godfather?' No…no, definitely not! But Tig refused to talk anymore…no more conversation…besides, he was also too frustrated to even form words right now, just waving his hand at Juice like he might throw something at him, and wished he did have something to throw at him, the only vocalization Tig was able to manage was a growl…but luckily, that was enough for Juice to interpret.

"Fine," Juice sighed in his own frustration and looked back at the road, quiet for about a second and a half, but once more just as Tig was ready to relax and enjoy this newest bout of silence, again Juice spoke. "You can explain it to me tomorrow night."

"What?" Tig heard himself speak long before he knew he was going to, but he'd jumped back to alertness, on edge, wondering what the hell Juice meant by that. Tomorrow was Thursday, not Friday, there was no church, or following party, tomorrow night! "Like hell I will; what's tomorrow night?"

"Dinner," Replied Juice in some annoying, know-it-all tone, but Tig still didn't get it, wondering what had so far kept him from slapping the retard upside his lightening bolted head…but gradually, awfully, Tig started to remember…Juice's next words sealing it all for him like a heavy granite slab being pushed in place over a tomb. "Me and Lar, Ope and Verda and you and Joss…dinner."

Author's Note: In addition to "Thank You" I wanted to ask everyone who prays, or believes in anything good, to please extend some kind thoughts and well wishes out to VERDA NAPOLI, GO4ITGIRL, DETZER and DUTCH'76. All, in their own ways, are recovering from something and it is my sincerest hope that they all emerge from it stronger than when they went into it!

And of course, thank you all again for reading for reviewing! Is everything still going okay in this story? I know a lot of my most steadfast reviewers are dealing with bigger things right now, but I just want to be sure no one is disappointed with what I've been posting lately. This is "our" story, and the last thing I want to do is wreck it for any of us, so please, let me know if there's something you want to see that you're not seeing. Thanks again for all that you do for me and I hope you all know how much your comments mean to me! Thanks for being you! - Grace


	111. Rolling on the Water

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 111

"He's settling down now," Clay's voice was warm and rich, full of some kind of "I knew you could do it" relief and also pride as he smiled back at Joss and Sam. The king had spent most of their trail ride with one big hand gripping the squared off cantle of the western saddle he rode and was turned at the waist, looking back over his shoulder from atop the big spotted Appaloosa draft cross, making sure that Joss and Sam were still following along and that Sam hadn't bolted off like he'd threatened to when the big mule deer stag had jumped out of the brush, or when they'd accidentally flushed a large flock of Starlings…or when the dandelion seed had blown by. Sam, he was such a sensitive freak with an overactive imagination, it didn't take much to turn him into a spooky, silly hunk of crazy. He wasn't the horse Joss had intended to bring out on the trail; she'd wanted to enjoy her time with Clay and not have to constantly be on guard to put down the equine rebellion she sat aboard of, but Clay had taken such a shine to Sam, called him a "sleek, gray ghost," and as if Sam understood the compliment, Joss's goofy horse then took off running in a big circle within his paddock, his black tail pitched, dappled ears pricked forward and nose high, eyeing Joss haughtily as he galloped passed her like, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful!"

But there was a lot more to everything than what it was, Joss could tell. Clay was pushing her…well, not really pushing her, but he was evaluating her, making sure she was alright with where she was and what she had, setting up challenges and scenarios just so he could see how well Joss made her way over or through them. Sam was the first one; Clay wanted to see Joss handle her crazier than crazy horse and get a good day's cooperation and work out of him. That stood for something…something Joss hadn't yet deciphered, but against her better judgment…and Lauren's unspoken look of "you're crazy," Joss caught Sam and lead him into the barn, grooming him and tacking him up for their very first trail ride together ever. It was going to be a thrill a minute, that Joss was sure of, the only question was, what kind of thrill?

Joss nodded now and reached down to pat Sam's neck, he really had settled down, quit acting like he had a suspicion that Joss was going to ride him straight off a cliff or something, and that was noticed by and pleased Clay, and pleasing Clay made Joss happy, so everything was good…but the test wasn't over, not yet. "Yeah, I think he's getting it now," she smiled back at Clay, knowing he was proud of her, and that always felt good, just like it felt good to know that Tig was proud of her, but Joss wasn't exactly sure why Clay was so insistent about Joss taking Sam today, or why he was proud of her for handling him the way she did. Whatever, when something like that was offered to her by Clay, or Tig, Joss couldn't help basking in it and letting it make her feel amazing. She sat forward enough on Sam a moment to reach up and scratch at his forelock where she knew Sam did like to be touched, Joss laughing when her goofy Thoroughbred's ears bent outwards and pointed away from his head in a effort to make more room for the movement of her fingers. "Yeah," Joss nodded again, giving Sam a good scratch. "It only took three-quarters of the ride, but he's liking it now." She laughed, but really she was thankful to have not been thrown by her horse in front of Clay…that had been her first and most major worry when Clay had suggested she take Sam; now, with whatever this evaluation of her that Clay was making, was not the time to fall off of her crazy horse! But before Joss could make any excuse about not taking Sam out on the trail for the very first time, Clay was there to remind her that "to happen sooner or later." Well, the king was right, it did…but was Clay just trying to see if she was afraid of her own horse? Hmm…it would make sense if Tig had mentioned she'd developed a sudden fear of horses, and animals in general, maybe Clay was trying to make sure Joss was back on kilter? Okay, fine…Joss would show Clay that she was, but she just hoped that wouldn't involve having to discuss how she got off-kilter, with the Opie screw up, to begin with. It didn't matter that talking about her "date" with Opie might eventually be a more proper segue into what was with Tig and Gemma…after all, it was that "date" that lead to Joss's broken wrist, which lead to that weird, tense glancing blow of a meeting in the parking lot with Tig and Gemma…but Joss did not want to discuss her Opie screw up with Clay…she was ashamed of what she'd done, and having to talk to the man who loved her like a father should have, so much so that he'd introduced himself as "Dad," would be…well, Joss would be one hundred times as ashamed as she already felt…it was bad enough that Tig knew she wasn't perfect…that she had that black mark on what was once such a gleaming record…she was dirty, she was sullied…she'd failed…did she have to add Clay to the list of people who knew that about her?

But, how were Tig and Gemma today? Still no calls from Tig…but then he knew she was going riding with Clay…or…something really bad had, or was currently, happening between Tig and Gemma at the garage…oh God! But one huge tremor of Sam's shoulder that ran up Joss's knee quickly pulled her out of her most recent funk; her fear and worry was being broadcast and absorbed by her horse, and that wasn't fair…or safe. Once more Joss had pushed her concerns about Tig and Gemma out of reach of her mind. She and Sam were stopped now behind Clay and the big Appaloosa cross, all four of them looking towards the creek bed that cut the newly expanded farm in two and emptied into a large pond, acres away still. Joss and Lauren were still trying to decide whether to fence in the pond as part of pasture or convert it into some type of Aqua-therapy rehabilitative option for horses that may need it. But the creek that fed the pond would be the next obstacle Sam was to face, his ears were already swiveling around on his head as he focused on the babbling sound of water over rocks, and Joss was ready for what she knew would be another fight. But, that was still better than trying to suppress her urge to ask some seemingly innocent question about Tig and Gemma.

But Joss wasn't the only one to notice Sam's building nervousness as he looked towards the stream, his black hued legs and hooves trembling with slight, tiny movements of protest as he huffed and grunted towards the shallow, rolling water. Clay's eyes were just as much on Sam as Joss's were. "We don't have to cross the water if you think he's had enough for one day." Clay said; his big, spotted mount's quiet complacency and demeanor of having 'been there and done that' stark contrasts to Sam's developing stubborn, unsure and uneasy rant. "Besides, you don't want to get that cast wet."

Her cast…her cast…that Clay could see it suddenly made Joss shiver…which was stupid, she knew he could see it, he'd seen a lot, it wasn't a secret, nor was how her cast really got there…but still Joss wished none of it ever happened. And there was a time, not so very long ago actually, that Joss would have taken that opportunity to bow out of this water crossing, particularly when Clay had already given her built in excuses like "Sam…he's had enough for one day," or "I can't get my cast wet," but bowing out never occurred to Joss. She'd fight Sam across that creek, she'd fight…she'd fight…Gemma…what happe—No! There'd be time to try to find out something later, lots of time, Joss and Clay would have to un-tack and brush down their horses in the barn…Joss would ask then, somehow. But, why was Clay giving her that out to begin with? He really was testing her out…seeing what she still had in her…maybe he knew about her horse fears and the Opie screw up already? Well, if he did, then Joss was going to show Clay how alright, with everything, she was now. "He's good," she answered, taking a look at her horses flicking ears and feeling his body start to shake just a little, Sam doing all his usual "I'm scared, I'm scared" tactics that he went to when his being belligerent and mean act failed him, but Joss would get her horse through this, and she'd make him respect her for doing so as well. "I have a feeling that he's going to grand stand and make a scene, then just run right across it like it was nothing." And he probably would, Joss knew her horse and she particularly knew when he was bluffing. Sam just liked to argue, there was no other way of putting it.

Still looking back at her, Clay nodded, but again he smiled like he was happy with the decision she'd made, but now he expected her to make good on it, even if he was being a total "dad" at the moment along with it. "Okay, I'll cross first, let you watch and get a feel for where the deep spots are if there any, and then you can focus more on gettin' Sammy boy across than having to worry about where any drop offs might be."

"Thanks," Joss smiled over Sam's snort, shortening her reins already as she watched Clay's toes turn outwards from the big Draft cross's side, urging his horse forward with a squeeze of his legs. Sam also watched Clay and the bigger horse, tossing his gray head and black mane as the Draft cross stepped into the creek like Sam was in the audience of some equine horror flick. "Hey," Joss said shortly and sternly and sat deep in the saddle, pulling Sam's head back down and pushing him forward with her legs, knowing he was about to start backing up and trying to get as far away from the water as he could. "I know it makes noise," she told him, circling him away from the creek, "and I know the light bounces off it funny and it'll probably be a little bit cold, but it's okay, Sam. I promise." Sam's ears swiveled back towards her voice and once again Joss and he were facing the creek, Sam still nervous, whinnying to the big Draft cross that was slowly and leisurely plodding through the creek with Clay along for the ride, not having to give many commands or keep much control of him…until…Joss watched and was a bit confused when Clay's horse stopped in the middle of the creek, where the water looked the deepest. On the spotted cross, the water came up just over his knees, but there was suddenly a lot of splashing as a big spotted leg and light colored hoof began to paw at the water with gusto. And Joss laughed, looking at Clay now. "You're going to get wet!"

"Oh no I'm not," Clay responded with an amused, but slightly agitated smile, both his heels swinging as he kicked the big cross onwards, Joss impressed that though Clay hadn't ridden for what he said to be decades, that he didn't panic, and knew just what to do. "C'mon, son! This ain't no waterpark!" He told the big horse, who just stood there, pawing the creek and shaking his thick spotted neck, shifting his weight the way Joss knew was coming, and again she couldn't help but laugh, expecting at any moment to see Clay's horse lay down in the water and start to roll and play…the big Appaloosa Draft cross was yet to have a name…but so far, "Mike," after the swimmer, Michael Phelps, sounded good. Joss was so prepared to see Clay end up in the drink, she was even considering where she could get dry clothes to send him home in…because Clay was much much taller than Juice, so borrowing from Juice's closet was out…but finally the Draft cross's head popped up in response to Clay's urgings, the pawing stopped, and the soaking, spotted horse emerged on the other side of the creek, looking disappointed and cheated. But Clay was laughing now, dropping his stirrups to try and shake creek water out of the black cowboy boots he wore unsuccessfully as he turned his mount around to face Joss and Sam. "You know he did that?" He asked smirking at Joss suspiciously.

"Not a clue," Joss smiled back, shaking her head, but Clay obviously mistook her sincerity and he just smiled but shook his head back at her, wagging his finger at her like her day would come. "I didn't! I swear!" Joss laughed, but Sam was wavering again, trying to move backwards, totally sensing that it was now his turn to cross.

"Sure," Clay drawled with the same smile, but focused now on Joss, Sam and the creek. "Now get over here; if you stay dry, I'll take you out to dinner." But before Joss could smile and feel giddy over the offer, Clay confirmed every suspicion she'd had that he was testing her, that he knew something…or that there was some bad blood between Tig and Gemma. "We got some shit to talk about, kid."


	112. Courtly Love

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 112

"Well, we could do something small and quiet then. Quiet's good! Everyone could come over to my place," Verda suggests, she's full of suggestions, she really wants this to happen, but how the hell can it now? I haven't explained the whole me, Joss and Tig situation to her…because I don't know how to…it's killing me, but I almost wish Tig was standing here so I could hand the phone off to him. I have the distinct feeling that even when I try to explain this to Verda, she's still not going to listen, or possibly not believe me…she's still carrying on, making alternate plans that aren't going to alleviate what the real problem is…because she doesn't know what the real problem is…and I can't tell her…you don't talk about another brother's old lady, and that's essentially what this boils down to. Besides, how do I tell Verda that I asked Joss "out" and that's the reason Tig is going to pound on her if I even get near her? But Tig's got me there…I guess he's finally found something that'll work…in a way, I'm grateful…sort of grateful…but that's nothing I can explain to Verda…as if I was going to get the chance to any time soon, she's talking a lot and very very fast. "I got a fondue pot, with little plates and those long fork thingies, for Christmas last year, and I still haven't used it. Maybe tomorrow night can finally be its night?" She's laughing, like she expects me to say "yes," like she expects people who can say "fondue" without a four letter word in front of it to be coming to her house to eat it. Tig and fondue…no, I just can't…I'm already having visions of him shoving Joss's hand into a pot of molten, scalding cheese because I accidentally asked her to pass the salt or something…only Tig could ever fathom cheese as a weapon.

"Verda, that's a nice idea, but…" well, at least I got that far, but now I have to tell her something about why it won't work. Damn it, again I'm standing here wishing Tig was nearby, he'd know what to say, he'd have this shit tucked away and obedient in a way that makes me feel terrible to have anything be obedient…but Tig does have a concise way of dealing with shit…I have to give him that. And…since this is mostly a Tig reason for why dinner isn't going to work anymore, I make him my scapegoat. "Verda, you don't want Tig in your house," I tell her as if she just suggested that bed bugs make nice pets. "I can't see him 'visiting,' and eating fondue with one of the long fork thingies unless somebody's eyeball was skewered onto it," again Verda's laughing, but I'm not joking here; I was there when Tig was preparing to break down the carcass of that fat horsemeat trader and ship him off to be someone's dinner. Tig would only be at someone else's place to bust shit up, including them…Verda does not want, or need Tig in her house…and why does she even want him there? She's who called me and was all concerned about Tig abusing his wife! What? Does Verda really think I put that shit down, just like that? I wish! I can't believe Tig is going this far, that he's actually punishing Joss for anything that I do…he loves her, I know he does, but I guess when you're both crazy, there's still room for punches and kicks and broken arms within that love; hell, they can't even make out without drawing blood! But again, that's not something I'm going to attempt explaining to Verda, over the phone…or in person, for that matter. But I'm not hanging up until she understands that fondue night is out…because of Tig. "You don't want Tig in your house," I tell her again with a little more accent this time and it's got Verda actually listening now, "Tig, he's not…house trained." And now Verda's laughing again…because I went and screwed this up again…I didn't mean that the way I know it sounded…and I know that Tig would have been able to put it to her in a way that would have left her too afraid to breathe, let alone laugh…shit, how does he do that? Just lay down the law and shut everyone the fuck up…that part of him isn't based on crazy…I need to start studying that part of him…as sick as it makes me to realize it.

"Opie," Verda's still laughing, laughing so hard that she can't even speak, and I'm ready for her to say something about how she'll put newspaper down for Tig or something…but then she sighs and seems to come back down to the ground again. "This is about Joss's arm, isn't it?"

"What?" That was the last thing I was expecting her to say, but for a moment I'm reminded of how well it once seemed that Verda would fit into this life…my life…and it startled me so much I immediately went into trying to deny anything about Joss's arm…but no, I shouldn't do that…Tig wouldn't. "Yeah," I say as quickly as I can, I am trying to blame the demise of this whole dinner date thing on him anyway. "I just don't think it's a good idea, okay?"

"Okay," I can tell that Verda is nodding, beautifully shaped lips tight, disappointed, but I can feel that she understands too. Good, I was hoping so hard that she would, that she'd let go of it and go back to who she was when she seemed to just accept that things were different on my side of the fence…under this cut. "A lot of battered women shy away from going out in public, or being around friends, where someone may ask about what happened to them," she says, and I want to walk over to the blue cinderblocks of Teller-Morrow and start beating my head into them…no…one more time, Verda's not understanding the way I want her to…the way she needs to.

"No," this time I don't hesitate and I'm actually feeling a little frustrated. What happened to that night at the campground? What happened to that woman who sat next to me around the bonfire, telling me that as long as I believed in the badge I was sewing onto my cut, that I'd live up to what it said? "Joss isn't hiding herself from anyone," I say, trying to keep any edge out of my voice, but I know it was still sharp. I have to be letter perfect here, I have to tell her how this is going to be in a very blunt and uncompromising way; I need to be an SAA here. If I can start being one, Tig will ease up on me, and who knows, maybe he'll even stop taking fists, and God knows what else, to Joss? I know that's about me, it's very obvious; Joss, and her cast, is being dangled in front me like a carrot…I need to follow where it's leading me, Tig knows what he's doing, even if I don't like it. But I need to stop "not liking it," I need to stop giving Tig reasons to break Joss's arms. And Verda…if this is going to work between her and me, then I got to show her how it works…and I do want it to work. Verda's been around this club…a little bit…she's seen it…did she not think it was real? Did she think we were just putting on a show for her? Well…I guess maybe I've given her that impression…Tig's right…shit, Tig's right? I actually just thought that? Yeah…I did, because he is right…I have been going at this Verda thing in entirely the wrong way for what I am…I'm the Sergeant at Arms…and I'm also a one percenter…no one's got dominion over me…that's what Verda has to see…and there's only one way that happens. "Look," now that I'm standing still, I realize that I've been walking in circles in the parking lot the whole time I've been on the phone with her…how transparent that must have looked to anyone watching me. "Dinner's off, okay? I know you were looking forward to it, and I'm sorry it's off, but it's off." Wow. Did I just take that down like that? And I didn't have to have a gun in my hand, or be violent and threatening? And Tig wasn't here to see it or hear it? Damn it! But, let's see him try to rip this cut off my back now! "But there is a club party Friday night," there was a time when Verda's silence on the other end of the line would have made me nervous, would have had me back peddling and apologizing, but there's none of that in me because I know she's listening to me, I know she'll do whatever it is I tell her we're going to do. I'm who lead her into this weird quagmire of being some kind of wanna-be gentleman caller…she followed me into this mess…she'll follow me out…good…great, actually…that's how things in this life…in my life…have to be. I don't mind when my voice levels out, not mean, not menacing, just full of intention…Verda has learn, she has to see…and so do I. "I want you there!"

Chapter 112; Part 2

"How's Gemma?" It was a simple question, perhaps a little bit out of place, asking such an acquaintance type of thing of someone, and about someone, whom Joss had a much more intimate relationship with, but it was the best way she could think of to find out what her man and the queen were embroiled in.

But Clay didn't twitch like he thought any part of what Joss asked was strange, he just lifted out a large slice of the pizza they'd ordered, half pepperoni, sausage and bacon and half onion, goat cheese and pineapple…which had made Clay roll his eyes while Joss giggled. "Misses her kid, I think," Clay replied, pulling strands of cheese that still tethered his serving to the large, round, silver pan in the center of the orange table, and for a moment Joss felt her heart drop into her stomach as thoughts of Jax came back to her, and how Gemma had lost her only remaining son…was that what Tig and Gemma were fighting about? Tig wasn't all that sensitive to the whole Jax situation after all. But as soon as Clay's cool, blue eyes shifted back up to her, Joss knew it wasn't like that at all. "Said for me to get you and Tig 'over for dinner…soon!'" He smiled.

"Oh!" Now that sounded awkward, there was no reason for Joss to have been so surprised by a dinner invite…but if there was a dinner invite…then…were Tig and Gemma fighting at all? What…how…oh! Was this thing Tig was having with Gemma only on Tig's side? Was that it? Then…what was it about? Joss's cast was in the middle of it, there was no doubting that! Maybe…just maybe, Tig and Gemma both really were fighting with each other, and Gemma sent out the dinner invite to really blow Tig away in her own home…but somehow, Joss knew that wasn't it. Tig was tamping down some disgruntled attitude that was about Gemma! So, how did Joss get Tig to talk abou—oh yeah, Clay was sitting right across from her, waiting for an answer on what he'd essentially been sent to procure. "Yeah, we'll be there, just tell us when!" She smiled back…but now she was more nervous than ever…she'd just agreed to dinner at Gemma's when her man was having a Gemma issue! Great! Fabulous job! Tig would be so proud of her…shit! How did Joss get out of this one?

Clay nodded, content with how content Gemma would be with Joss's answer, and then picked up his meat laden pizza, folding the crust against itself and taking a bite, but glancing at Joss and her naked plate. Damn…she looked nervous, she wasn't hiding it real well anymore, but it was because she'd just figured out this Tig and Gemma thing…or more accurately, this Tig 'about' Gemma thing. "You're not in trouble, little one." Clay kind of smiled, amused, well aware of his wife's reputation with these dinners. And then Clay laid his piece of pizza down on his plate, looking across the orange Formica table top at Joss in a way that spoke of all his experience raising a teenager. "But maybe you should start telling me why you think you are?"

Oh God! Either Clay was that good, or Joss was that off! Hmm…she was off, that was abundantly accurate, but yeah…Clay…"dad"…was that good too. Joss had an out, however…and she was never so grateful for it. She sighed, looking up at Clay with a pained and almost bashful expression…ultimately, this was going to lead to her having to tell him about what she'd done with Ope. But for now, there were some things she could keep protected, "I can't talk about it," she said first, but was quick to add, "It's Tig's, it's not mine. But I don't think he's really in any sort of 'trouble' with anyone though."

"Hmm," Clay nodded then returned to his pizza, contemplating all as he chewed, Joss feeling frozen, bracing for his next words, and when they came, the restaurant began to feel very very small. "Where's Ope in all this?"

Joss sighed again; this was it…where it all came tumbling down, where she up and told Clay what a horrible, back-stabbing, disloyal old lady she was…and to his VP and future king no less! "Clay," but she only got as far as his name before she choked up, not really wanting to be sitting here in 'Affascinante's Pizzeria' with tears streaming down her face and blowing her nose on napkin after napkin while "Volare" played in the background. Over their table was a large hanging basket of artificial pink and yellow rose like ranunculi with layers and layers of soft petals, shadowed by bluish-purple belladonna that stood up like bunches of little trumpets amongst the fat ranunculus. Joss's eyes were glued to it, the fake flowers suddenly looked so interesting, Joss disappearing into their colors, hiding from the brunt of what she was about to confess. "I…kinda lost touch with things, got thinking about how so much more is on Tig now that he's the club's second in command, started to feel that our time together was dwindling…made me get all scared and nervous and confused about what it was I really wanted, and then I started letting myself think I was owed something…and when Opie offered it…I…took it."

Clay sat across from her now, pizza on his plate and elbows on the table, fingers steepled just below his creased brow. He looked like he didn't believe her, like she hadn't told him everything. "You're making this sound like more than it was, aren't you?"

Joss's eyes came back down from the hanging flower basket. Part of what Clay had said was hopeful, begging her not to break his heart with what she didn't say, but most of it was the savvy of a club president, and a father…a father that Jax never was able to see before him. "You know what happened, don't you?" Joss asked; getting the feeling that anything she had to say anymore was pointless…Clay had seen it all.

"More like I know what didn't happen," he replied, then reached across the orange tabletop and touched one finger to her cast…yeah, if she'd really screwed up with Ope…like if she slep—oh God, even just the thought made her head pound…but if she had, there was no way she would have escaped with only a broken wrist…Clay knew that too. "But I know about you and Ope trying to figure out what you're going to be, because you're going to be something, there's always going to be a…bond there that you don't have with anyone else…" Clay's mouth drew into a tight, straight line a moment like he was remembering something he didn't like to think about, but at the same time, he was over it, everything was fine, now. "A man don't hunger after a woman like that and not end up with a little piece of…something…that remains between the two of them, even if it does become something more acceptable and less dangerous." He looked away from Joss a moment, up at the hanging basket of fake flowers, like maybe he was now trying to hide part of what he meant or was saying from Joss, but before she could really begin to ponder it, Clay looked back at her, as level as ever, everything that was club president, father…and even husband, flowing out of him now. "And stop worrying about how much is on Tig, now. Making time for you will get easier for him as things go along, because now he's got even more ability to designate and order brothers to handle shit that they can handle without him, so he can go be with his old lady. The more important you are to Tig, the more important you'll be to the club; Tig knows that and so does the club. Don't worry about it."

And even though Joss knew Clay wasn't through speaking, she was smiling now. Not Clay and not Tig had mentioned anything about it, but Joss was now getting the impression that Clay and Tig had already shared a similar conversation…with no pizza. Clay said "Tig knows" how important, and how easy, making his old lady look "important" to him, and to the club, was going to become…yeah…Clay had talked to her man! Just like that, all Joss's worries about Tig not having time for her were gone…Tig may have told her not to worry about it, but now she understood why! And the best part was that she hadn't had to insult Tig's authority by asking him how he was going to make her not have to worry about it. Oh this was such a good thing to know and understand now! And it made so much sense! No one dared to question how much Clay loved Gemma, after all…and why was that? Because Clay treated his queen like a queen! Joss was beaming now, so happy and so relieved, wanted to stand up, move into the booth beside Clay and hug him…but he wasn't done talking…there was something else…something that Clay wasn't sure how to say, the words in his mouth not matching what Joss could tell was in his head.

"But that 'something' between you and Ope," he continued in an asking tone, reminding Joss of what he meant and looking at her with a very very serious expression, his large index finger appearing between them now, pointing at her, full of wisdom and warning. "It will have its place one day," he told her, "but don't either one of you try to make it be anything; just let it be. It'll still be there when you, or Tig, needs it to be."


	113. Outside of the Box

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 113

It would be dark in a few minutes, and Joss was out on the patio, Tig could hear her talking to the rackies and he took a moment to listen in and make sure that he hadn't scared any of them off by coming down the driveway in her truck; it bumped along a little more than usual with the load he'd put in it, but there didn't seem to have been any raccoon disruption. Good, maybe the little coons would still be hanging around by the time he got out on the patio. Usually, Joss would have run to the door to greet her old man, but she was busy, and he didn't mind her being busy with the raccoons. Besides, he didn't want her to see what he'd loaded into the back of her truck, not yet; but he couldn't wait to show her all the same. Shit…Tig was in a 'good mood'…while it was rare, and he knew it was because of what he'd brought home in the back of Joss's truck, Tig still hated being in a 'good mood'…'good mood's' made him do and say shit, and not mind things, that he otherwise would want no part of. The only saving grace of being struck down by a 'good mood' was that Joss understood that it was like some altered state for him, that it was fleeting, not really who he was, and that she shouldn't assume anything he agreed to while in a good mood, or wanted or said, would stand once it passed. She was good like that, always had been; unless he was in a rare 'good mood,' she didn't expect him to come home in search of a hug and kiss anymore than she expected him to tell her all about his days pitching in the Negro League when he took some trippy kinda new shit…pitching in the Negro League…but Joss would listen…despite the fact that Tig never played any kind of professional baseball…and that he was never a Negro…but still he had foggy memories of her smiling, giggling a little, and asking him shit like, "So Josh Gibson was the toughest you ever faced?" "You learn that curve ball from Smokey Joe Williams?" Tig didn't even realize he knew who the fuck those people were…but apparently, he did…and that's why drugs were good…

"Jesus, that's your sister's Pop-Tart!" Joss's voice was full of admonishment but no less sweet and caring, like she was talking to a small, naughty child that didn't really understand the difference between doing good or doing bad…and she was giving the coons the Pop-Tarts? Well…it's not like there was that icing on them anyway…Joss and her healthy shit. "You be nice," Joss further instructed their favorite, now teenage raccoon, and Tig felt himself smile. That damn girl really did love animals; she spent all day with them now, but she was still just as excited and happy when the raccoons came around in the evenings at the house. But that wasn't what bought Tig's smile, and it was more than just this damn 'good mood' too. Tig was smiling to himself as he unlatched and opened the tailgate of Joss's Explorer because of how much "mom" there really was in Joss. It came out so naturally the moment anything vulnerable, or in need of guidance and protection looked at her, whether it was begging animal crackers with a rolled up little black fist rapping on the sliding glass door, or imploring her advice on what to do next after it had asked out that fancy, new doctor…yeah…damn it…fucking 'good mood'…Tig did not want to deal with that shit right now! But…hell, it could wait until later…he had other things to get to tonight. But one thing was for sure though, their boy, the one that in no way was supposed to have been, would have had a great mom, no doubt…and he still would.

Unloading Joss's truck right now would have meant having to move his bike, and make a lot of noise that would likely scare off Jesus, Squiggy, Spike and Mama, so Tig held off. Besides, 'good mood' be damned, but he was eager to see Joss, eager to bring her into the garage and show her what he'd needed her truck for. He'd likely have to explain whether he unloaded the truck, or left everything in it anyway, so he left the tailgate down and went into the house through the screen door in the garage, grabbing a beer from the fridge and headed out towards the sliding glass patio door. Joss sat there on the first brick step, her long, silky black and red hair wet, wearing her favorite of his old, worn SAMCRO T-shirts, still breaking up a Pop-Tart and sliding the pieces across the bricks to the four raccoons, almost like she was dealing cards. Every little coon scooped up their piece of Tig's breakfast and sat back on their fuzzy haunches, eating away, until Jesus looked up and saw Tig standing there, about to come outside, and with a little whining grunt, he stuffed his piece of icing-less blueberry Pop-Tart into his mouth and scurried behind the row of three big, plastic, terra-cotta colored flower pots that Joss was going to plant…whatever in. Squiggy and Spike quickly followed Jesus, scrambling for cover, Joss knowing immediately what that meant and turned to look over her shoulder, smiling even before her spring green eyes met Tig's.

"It's okay guys," she lulled to the raccoons, but her eyes stayed on Tig, so happy he was home, like she could sense his 'good mood' the moment he'd turned down the driveway. Well, maybe she could…damn girl was in him more ways than Tig could count. She moved over to make room for him on the patio step as he opened the door, looking back at the raccoons briefly. "I won't let the 'Hey Guy' get you."

"Hey," Tig immediately said, smirking down at her as he stepped outside, unable to help himself…shitty 'good mood'…but then his attention was drawn by Jesus' little ears peaking up over the flower pot he was hunkered down behind, followed by his big brown eyes and twitching little snout. "C'mon…we're cool." Tig called to him, relieved that some annoyance still remained in his voice, despite the 'good mood' that hung over him. Joss giggled a little, her eyes endearingly on her old man as he sat down beside her, catching her under her chin and pulling her in for a kiss that she neither refused nor overreacted to, letting Tig do as he pleased, for as long as he wished to, not disappointed or begging for more when the osculation was nothing more than a quick peck. She smiled even as he pulled away from her, but Tig put his arm around her and pulled her close, rubbing her shoulder as he casually took a long swallow of his beer. It was good to be home…with Joss…and the raccoons…and everything in the back of the truck…damn 'good mood.'

"I didn't think I'd be home before you," Joss said, her head on his shoulder as they both watched the three little raccoons slowly emerging from behind their cover, while Mama sat undaunted in the place she'd been prior to Tig's arrival, nibbling away at what still remained of her Pop-Tart.

Tig shrugged, it had been a long day, but it didn't matter now. "I had to go a couple places to get exactly what I wanted." He took another swig of his beer, gave Joss's shoulder another rub, liked how she felt next to him, against him, so soft, so in love with him, nuzzling into him like she was a piece of him that had fallen off and was so grateful to be reunited. "White Pine Blister Rust really fucked up what should have been a simple errand."

"White Pine what?" Joss asked, smiling again as she looked up at him and once again Tig was reminded of all the strange things he knew, and how it was that he perhaps came to know them…some part of him stored up odd bits of knowledge in a place he couldn't access without some illegal and illicit key, and then spit them out later on when it made absolutely no fucking sense to be talking about them.

Tig shook his head, wondering why the words had even come out of his mouth…he was lucky that Joss, with her super brain, didn't know what White Pine Blister Rust was, because if she did, she may have figured out the surprise he had waiting in the garage. "You got ready for bed early," he commented, trapping a strand of her wet hair between his fingers and giving it a shake…but really, going to bed early wasn't such a bad idea…

"Oh, no, not really," Joss answered and was smiling even more now. "I had to take a shower when I got home. Clay and I rode out to the creek today and decided to try crossing it. His horse tried to get down and roll in the water, and Sam…" she paused a moment and rolled her eyes at her horse, Tig, held captive by his 'good mood,' let his own smile slip out. "It took almost five whole minutes of him dancing around and rearing up before he finally conceded to cross the water, and then he just did this…horse belly flop into the middle it, and got me, and Clay all wet." She laughed; tickled now by something Tig could tell had been so frustrating at the time. "Fifty miles an hour on the bike dried us both out, but I still just kept imagining diatoms and protozoa and other microorganisms in my hair, so I had to wash them out."

Tig heard himself give a guttural kind of laugh and he pulled Joss a little closer still…damn girl…she spent all day outside, handling all kinds of animals, but stream critters in her hair freaked her out. "You're weird." He told her and took another sip of his beer, realizing then that something didn't fit with what Joss had said. "Hey, you took crazy Sammy out on a trail?"

"Yeah," she nodded, and she looked kind of proud of herself too.

"I thought you said he couldn't do trails?" And she had said that…that day with the fundraiser for the horse rescue, Joss didn't go on the trail ride because she said she "didn't have a horse." What the hell?

"I said I didn't trust him out on the trail, for the first time, with a large group. But this was just me and Clay." She was trying not to make this sound as significant as it was, but Tig understood all that it meant; Joss's horse fears were gone!

He looked down at her with one raised eyebrow. "You're back, aren't ya?"

Joss smiled her biggest smile of the night; her eyes on his in a way that seemed to tattoo his own green. "Thanks to you."

God damn, she was perfect! And that had nothing to do with this fucking 'good mood!' Again Tig lifted her chin up with his thumb, leaning down and kissing her hard this time, Joss's lips parting instantly, her tongue eager to wrap around his and one of her legs moving into his lap, her knee bent over top of his, sending a shiver down his thigh that made his cock jump to life…if Joss was ready for bed, Tig might as well take her there…but an impatient little grunt from the bottom of the brick steps pulled them apart, Tig looking up to see Jesus standing there, one little front paw on the step, the other semi-raised as if he had a question, little nose pointed upwards, sniffing for more Pop-Tarts. He let go of Joss again, sighing, but still smiling a bit…and that was because of the 'good mood.' "Kids…" he said to her, shaking his head and Joss's hungry look dissolved into laughter.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said to Jesus, unfolding the metallic wrapper in her casted hand and pulling out the remaining half of the Pop-Tart, breaking it into several pieces as she turned back to Tig. "I'm sorry, to you too, baby." She smiled, and laughed a bit to him, but then shifted more into housewife mode as she began tossing bits of Pop-Tart out to the rackies. "Clay took me to dinner; I brought the left over pizza home for you, if you're hungry." The final piece of Pop-Tart hit the patio, scooped up by Mama, Joss turning to Tig again. "And I got some more Pop-Tarts too; with icing on them this time." But then her expression and her mood seemed to sour a little, like in spite of how perfect she was, she wasn't happy with herself, looking up at Tig again with apology shining in her pretty green eyes. "And Gemma told Clay to tell us to come over for dinner sometime soon…and I said 'yes.'"

Tig heard himself groan, that disparagement making it through the cloud of 'good mood' he otherwise couldn't shrug. Damn it…Joss had been sensing that he was harboring something negative towards Gemma…he'd have to tell her…and then just hope his sweet, dark, perfect angel wasn't hurt by it. But not now…no, he had something in the garage to show her, something that she had to know was there and understand why he'd gotten it, and what it all meant…what it all really really meant, before he told her about his Gemma aggravation. Joss had to see and understand the gravity of what Tig had brought home…once she did, he knew she'd never have any doubt about anything between them ever again. The Pop-Tarts were gone, an empty wrapper in the fingers that stuck out from Joss's cast, and Tig grabbed what he could of them, getting to his feet as the little raccoons watched him carefully, but refused to abandon the last of their Pop-Tarts. "C'mere," he pulled her to her feet, more focused on what he was about to show her than he was answering any of the questions that spilled from Joss's lips, whisking her through the dining room and into the kitchen as she apologized for accepting the dinner invite, obviously afraid that she'd gone against what Tig wanted, and going on about other stuff that she'd done that could maybe make him unhappy, but really, in the face of what Tig was taking her to see, what he'd procured, what he was putting together for the two of them, none of that mattered. This shit was bigger than the matching black rings on their fingers…it was bigger than either of their two weddings…

"…it's up to you about the snakes, okay?" was the last thing Joss had said when Tig set her down on the concrete garage floor, realizing that somewhere along the lines, he'd picked her up in his arms and carried her through the screen door in the kitchen and into the garage…but what the hell was she talking about snakes for? Whatever it was, it was also apologetic…but, Tig didn't care about that right now…this was it, he was showing her…everything…everything that was their future. And Joss stood there looking at it all, clueless so far, trying to make sense of it all, looking back at him and saying the most complimentary thing she could say for what she saw in front of her. "That's…a lot wood."

Again Tig laughed…stupid 'good mood'…then moved behind her, pointing over her head at the stacks and stacks of one inch thick, three feet by seven feet sheets of nearly lily white lumber in the back of her truck. She was right, there was a lot of wood…but Tig needed a lot of it. "That's all Sugar Pine, baby." He told her, pulling her back against him again, crossing both his arms, one over the other, across her chest, his hands on each of her shoulders, and holding her to him good and tight. "A nice, soft, light wood; a lotta knots in it to give it some character, great to carve…" and Tig paused, feeling how Joss was leaning back into him the moment he said the word "pine;" she was so soft, so in love with him. Maybe she was starting know where he was going, because her head cocked as she looked at the piles of wood with some new appreciation of what could come of it, and her arms, cast and all, moved upwards, crossing over Tig's as they crossed over her. Yeah, she was getting it, and she was just as happy about it as Tig was, she was just waiting for him to make it official. "But best for coffins…our coffin."


	114. Preplanning

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 114

The small frying pan hissed with melting butter, Joss waiting a few seconds until it turned just the right shade of caramel brown, then popping both halves of a split whole wheat raisin cinnamon bagel into it, cut side down. Tig sat at the table, face already half screwed up; the mood he'd been in yesterday had passed, as Joss knew it would, but that was okay; he was Tig again, and she loved Tig…to deathly levels. Despite how Tig had already made it plain that bagels and frying pans should never interact, Joss was sure of herself…and her bagels. It was a good morning, though Tig was his usual, ever annoyed, self again and the fact that neither of them had slept much. But how could they? Of all the things that Tig had done for her that were unexpected and more meaningful than even Joss could have predicted was in Tig to be, the coffin crowned the list. She must have kissed every part of her man last night, skimming under him like a remora, so constantly attached to some part of him even when their bodies had come apart. And her eyes had stayed open for so much of what they'd done, her senses hungering for something otherworldly, refusing to miss anything, watching all that Tig did to her and took from her as she felt herself giving him it. She'd always known what it felt like to be with him, whether it was merely standing at his side, or the sugared pain of him splitting her in two with the immensity of his cock and the intensified desire provoked by luxurious amounts of testosterone. But now she knew what it looked like as well, had watched the bulge of biceps as he held her where he wanted her, had seen the trickle of sweat down his broad chest, moving around and in between the matted black hairs, had glimpsed at pulsating veins that filled the hollow spaces between his neck and collar bone when he thrust deep, her body flinching with the exquisite impact, her legs rolling up the dense, striated chords of his quadriceps, moonlight glinting off the white edges of his teeth as Tig huffed and growled. She could see all of that, in the dark, an illustration of the poetry her body was already well versed in, an image that would come forth now whenever light was low, or not there at all.

It didn't take long for the bagel to get just enough fry on it to become crisp in a way that turned it into something heavenly, like a fresh warm donut, with less fat and sugar, Joss pulling it from the pan and flipping it onto a plate and quickly drizzling it with a few ropes of the white icing she'd made from a little bit of powdered sugar, fat-free butter, skim milk and a teaspoon of vanilla. Tig was going to love this, though she never expected him to say so. He'd only suddenly complain that they didn't have bagels one morning. But, this was a lot better for him than Pop-Tarts and Slim Jims, or tortilla chips and grape jelly. And even though she had no fear of the end when it came, Joss wasn't done, and wouldn't be done, living with her man for a good long while; what he ate was important.

But the coffin…she was still trembling inside; Tig was serious about forever, and even more than that, he understood how serious she was. They'd talked about it numerous times, he'd enlisted Ope…but the bullet had come with strings attached…strings…and the things they seemed to be attached to were making them more and more worth cutting…but they were Tig's to cut, and he didn't seem discouraged. But her man wanted her with him…eternally in love with him, following him anywhere, forever by his side…and he was building their crazy and obsessive, bestial love its ultimate shelter. Joss felt her lips pull back into a jittery smile as she laid the plate with the warm, soft and almost gooey bagel down in front of Tig, handing him a fork. She couldn't wait to talk about this with him, it made her feel so good inside to even think about it, a place all their own, that would bind them tighter than a ring or an "I do," or even her patch ever could; but talking about constructing it, finding out what Tig wanted and how her ideas could be blended into that…well, Joss knew there was no word for how it made her feel, she only knew the symptoms of feeling like that; happily dizzy, her heart pounding, her whole body flushed warm, and the want to be so wrapped up in Tig that no one would ever be able to untangle them enough to tell who was who. Her man was giving her what she wanted…they would be one…the separations they suffered in life would be rewarded in death…they were meant to be together…two wild, mad things, male matched to female, arcane creatures like no others on earth…they were the same…there was no place else for them except with each other…they would be one.

"You put that dick shrinking fake meat shit somewhere in this, didn't you?" The tone was so accusatory it was silly, but Joss didn't laugh, just blinked away the eerie, happy wonderment that had enraptured her and looked back at Tig, who sat next to her, perched over his bagel with fork in hand, but giving her the skeptical, untrusting look instead of it, ignoring the enticing smell of cinnamon that wafted throughout the kitchen.

"What?" She laughed a little as she asked and shook her head. Nothing was simple with Tig…nothing…not even a hot breakfast, but she loved him…loved him like…crazy. "How could I have put my soy veggie crumbles in there without you noticing? You were sitting here the whole time."

Tig's face scrunched up at the words "soy veggie crumbles" and Joss couldn't help but laugh again. He looked back down at his bagels, poking at them with the fork like he was looking for evidence of the crime he'd accused her of, but he of course didn't find any, looking back at her still with a cautious and suspicious glare. "I don't know, but you got that kinda smile on your face."

"Tig," this time Joss didn't attempt to stifle or minimize her laugh. "Are you insinuating that I have a 'dick shrinking fake meat' smile?"

Even funnier than the words Tig had chosen to describe her soy veggie crumbles was the way he had to pause and contemplate what he'd meant, quiet as he studied her, but angling the fork down and finally cutting through the bagel with it. "Yeah," he said after a few moments deliberation, and then shoved a section of bagel into his mouth, probably so that Joss would never know he was nearly laughing himself at his own ridiculousness.

But, it was time to explain her smile, Tig did get awfully flustered by smiles, even hers, it was his nature. "It's got nothing to do with 'fake meat,'" she said as she crossed the kitchen to get the coffee pot and refill his cup, watching bagel disappearing off his plate the way Joss knew it would, but she'd never let on that she knew that. "I'm smiling because I did some research," she said to him over her shoulder as she turned to return the coffee pot to its rightful spot. Tig's head raised in her direction, he was listening…and chewing…Joss smiled again. "And it looks like the standard coffin dimensions are thirteen inches across at the foot and at the head, twenty-four inches across at the shoulder, sixteen inches deep and about six feet six inches tall."

Tig was nodding. "Yeah, we need to go bigger." He said as if he'd done his own research. "I'm thinking about twenty-three at the head and foot, maybe about thirty-eight across the chest…a little less if we make it twenty to twenty-two inches deep…you're always layin' all over me anyway." He finished with an exasperated sigh.

Yeah…she was…because now she couldn't escape the hold of octopus-man…but Joss couldn't complain, and wouldn't. And suddenly a memory of being awakened by the metal measuring tape gigging her in the nose and side sprang back to Joss, and she stopped before she sat down beside him at the table, a bit surprised. Just how long had Tig been planning this? "Is that what you were doing that one morning? Measuring us?"

"Had to start somewhere so I'd know how much wood to buy, didn't I?" He answered defensively, now down to his last bite of bagel.

"So," Joss was thrilled that this had been on his mind for as long as it had been, but she had one question still, sitting down in the chair next to him and trying to think of the best way to ask something she really didn't have any right to know from the man that owned her. "You already have it all planned out, then?" No…he couldn't have…she wanted to be in on creating this with him…everything in this life was Tig's to decide…so couldn't she at least have some little bit of…influence…in their death? It was the great equalizer, was it not?

And that's when Tig looked up at her, no scowl, no annoyance, no defensiveness anywhere in his arctic blue eyes, staring at her with how much he knew her pure in his features. "Baby," he sighed, and pushed his now empty plate more into the center of the table. "I kinda know what I'm going for here; looked up how coffins are six sided and caskets are only four and all that shit. I was ready to just set out and get it done and surprise you with it later, all finished and just waiting for the two of us…" and right in the middle of something that was as heartfelt as Tig usually got with words, he rolled his eyes. "And then I'm stuck riding in the flatbed with the idiot and he's talking about 'yak-back riding,' and I realize I gotta do this with you, that you gotta do this with me." His hand was over hers now where it rested on the table, the touch feeling so much heavier than Joss knew it really was; like that magnificent mirage of a moment when it felt like the weight of his form would come all the way through, into her body, making them one. 'Yak-back riding?' But there wasn't room for how or why that brought Tig to such a…romantic conclusion. "I want you with me in this, Joss; from start to finish. This is our 'happily ever after,' little girl, and you're the queen in our story." Tig was quiet a second, Joss still soaking up all the meaning around all his words, not even realizing she'd shuddered out a tear until she felt the roughness of Tig's thumb press to her cheek and wipe it away. He loved her…he loved her so damn much. But it was way too early in the morning for Tig to be dealing with a crying woman…as if there was ever a time he was good for dealing with that, and Joss was doing her best to get it together, trying to climb higher and higher on how she knew Tig felt about her until she was finally at some level where tears didn't exist…she knew there was such a place…but Tig had his own way of getting there. "Besides, this way, you get to handle all of the interior shit, because the last thing I want is to be trapped in a box with your forever nagging me about how the carpet don't match the drapes or some shit." He didn't smile, but Joss did, more than smiled, heard herself kind of hiccup a little laugh, and Tig immediately heard it too, taking the opportunity to push his empty plate towards her, only bits of crumbs and some icing remaining. "Now, put an egg with the next one."


	115. Raincheck

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 115

I haven't talked to Tig yet today…been avoiding him. He's got marks all over him again; ragged, distended looking ovals on his neck that disappear beneath gray polyester, scrapes and scratches and jagged lines from where fingernails slipped past his sweaty skin, red crescent shaped impressions of teeth that stick up from the collar of his shirt like the moon on the flag of Islam. Nickel-sized bruises sit a few inches above his elbows on each arm, from clutching fingers…a thumb pressed into the thickest part of his biceps, index finger at his triceps…Joss's hands, holding onto him as she struggled to stay close to him while Tig…yeah…I've been avoiding him. But it's not the road map of the sick and twisted…bonding ritual…that he and Joss were partaking of the night before that is really causing me to keep my distance. It's not even some effort on my part to keep Joss safe by not talking to Tig in some accidental way or tone that would make him think I'm trying to gather intelligence on Joss, and then have him go home and swing a fist at her. I can't protect Joss from Tig…I know I can't; ever since I got a glimpse of that black cast on her arm…yeah, Tig did it…he broke her damn arm…and seeing that made Joss feel the most far away from me and unattainable as she's ever felt to me. I can't make Tig stop beating on her. I can't save her from Tig. She belongs to Tig, because she wants to belong to Tig, even if it does mean he broke her arm and will again if I…if I…yeah, but I won't, so why get into it? I just wish I knew what she and I were…because we're something…I talked to her the way I would a brother about this Verda thing…there's more than a bullet between us.

But I can't save her from Tig. I don't even feel like I want to try to. It's not my job. I like Joss, she's a nice a girl, a smart girl…a smart girl who's done a really stupid thing. And beautiful…Joss is always beautiful…but she signed her life away, literally, when she put Tig's patch on her back…it's got nothing to do with me. I can't protect Joss from Tig…for the first time in what seems like years, I'm not avoiding Tig for any reason that relates to Joss. I'm avoiding Tig because he was right about me and Verda…and I don't want to have to tell him that…but I do have to tell him, sort of…because I cancelled the date tonight with Verda, and Tig is who has to know about that, being that Joss twisted his arm, or whatever else, into chaperoning that outing.

He's been tuning up a Chevy Equinox all morning, fussing and cussing about it too, but then I can't blame him; we all hate to work on Chevrolet's; everything is crammed into them so tight, no room to work with your hands or your tools and you always end up busting your knuckles up. Tig's hands have been a smear of burned black oil and red this morning, three or four little bloody nicks on the backs of his hands…he should be used to blood-drawing little scrapes and notches though…he doesn't seem to mind when his wife does it. He's on his way into the store room, where I'm looking for an air filter, so I drop that attitude before it gets in my way. Now's when I can just casually mention that Verda and I aren't going tonight and then get back to my own work…hopefully.

"What you need?" I didn't mean to start like that, but it's just that Tig goes from standing there at out crooked set of metal shelves looking upwards to squatting down and searching for whatever he didn't find on the top shelf on the bottom shelf.

"PCV valve for a two thousand eight Chevy piece of shit," he grumbles, and would have grumbled no matter who was standing there talking to him. I'm really wishing he'd stand up though…because with him squatted down like that, I can see down the back of his garage shirt, and the white wife beater he's wearing isn't thick enough, or dark enough in color, to hide the clear, vivid tracks of Joss's nails over the reaper ink on Tig's back. I can plot everyone of Joss's fingers, I can tell how tightly she was trying to hold onto him, I can practically see her slim arms trembling with intensity as she fought to stay connected with Tig…and I can see how whatever it is that Tig makes her feel struck so hard and so hot bloodedly that her nails dug in deep and tried to rip his skin off to be even closer to him than she was. Why Tig is moving and bending and reaching for things like his back doesn't tell some story of being flogged I really don't know; a big, red valley like that should hurt…maybe he just doesn't know it's there? No, he had to know…I don't care how good sex can feel at the time, you'd notice if someone stabbed you in the back with a knife…unless maybe you were Tig…and Joss…and the things that would break normal people make the two of you stronger. Joss…I can't help but wonder what she looks like this morning…though I don't really want to know. I don't want to see anymore of Tig's battle-scars either…so I start looking up and down the shelves myself, hoping to find a positive crankcase ventilation valve for an '08 Chevy too. I can't play this thing out like I'm not essentially admitting to Tig that he was right about me and Verda if I'm looking at the fitful, loving carnage left like footprints of his night with Joss; looks like last night was something…special for them…but I don't want to know what occasion.

My hand goes to a box on the second shelf instinctively. "I put this on an Uplander last week, seemed to fit Chevy specs." I tell him, hoping Tig will stop looking and take my word for it; I didn't make that up, after all. Thankfully, Tig does stand up straight again, his gray Teller-Morrow shirt relaxing against his shoulders and sitting flush against his back, the angry looking grooves and scratches between his shoulder blades gone from my view as he turns towards me and the PCV valve in my hand. Without a word he plucks it from my thumb and forefinger, tearing the top flap of the box nearly off as he opens it, pulling the valve out and holding it upside down as he looks it over.

"Yeah, that might fit on that manifold." He says then crumples the box up until I can't see it anymore in his fist and turns to walk back out into the bay.

Damn…I'm losing my chance to spit out what I need to spit out and walk off the way I'd planned to. Tig will always manage to unnerve me one way or another, I guess…and when Joss is involved in whatever it is about Tig that unnerves me, I probably won't ever stand a chance of not being freaked out into chaos, despite that I know she belongs to Tig and that I can't save her from him. I'm not sure what that means, or how it relates, as far as me being the SAA and acting like it, but right now I can't stop to think it all through. I gotta get out of this get together tonight in the quickest, simplest, least explanative way possible. "Hey, Tig," I call just as I see the heel of his boot move over the greasy crack in the doorway that separates the store room from the tire bay, and I'm kind of pleased with how off the cuff my tone sounds, like I'm just remembering something that isn't all that dire and I haven't been looking for a way to build up to it since I got to work.

Tig stops, turns half way around towards me again, but he's got the formation of a sinister curl in his upper lip, like he suspects this might be a Joss thing on my part and will definitely bite my head off and kick Joss's ass if it is. "What?" He asks, not yelling, not even really angry, but his voice sounds like a flat piece of metal suddenly dropped on the concrete floor nonetheless.

"Scratch Verda and me tonight," I tell him, and as soon as I say it, I realize this isn't going to work the way I wanted it to…damn it…Tig's in the damn doorway of the store room…how the hell am I supposed to drop that line and then cut away when my exit's blocked? Shit…for getting it together, I still have it all fall apart at times.

There's a ripple of emotions that move across Tig's features, starting with elation, because I know he did not want to do this whole date thing, and then to suspicion and ending with something that I swear looked like hope; but ultimately it's suspicion that won out and one of his eyebrows flattens across as he quirks a glare at me. "You dump her?"

There's some hope lingering in his words, however sharp they are, and I'm almost getting the impression that Tig is hoping I dumped Verda, like he's got someone else he wants me to meet…but given Tig being…well, Tig…I think I'll pass…I can't imagine Tig as even my 'wing man,' let alone someone who introduces me to my future wife. "No, we're still…us," I try not to sound like I'm not pointing to a ring on my finger, and I don't think I did, but you never know how Tig interprets…anything. "Now, she's coming to the after-church party tomorrow night, that's all." Great…I didn't realize that I'd said that and I certainly didn't mean to…I just told Tig I followed his suggestion; I just told him that he was right…but oddly enough, he doesn't seem to take notice of it.

Tig nods his head, and when it looks like he's going to stop, he just starts nodding some more, then some more…like he's having a conversation in his head that I'm not part of. "Okay," he says, but I'm not sure who he's talking to. "Yeah," he's still nodding, eyes whipping to the side then back again, "yeah," only that time his tone is lower, like in some final agreement, like something I was present for, but not part of, has just been worked out. I really didn't mean for this to happen…now I'm walking into something, with Verda, on Friday night, I can tell. How the hell does this happen? It's like Tig is some master of confusion…hmm…he is, sort of. "You tell Juice?" His question startles me a little because I was too preoccupied with what I've just somehow gotten myself…and Verda…into.

"No; got the impression that you were the 'fearless leader' on this." My voice is tense, I'm sounding a little bit testy, but I am. Since I managed to bungle this whole date cancellation, why couldn't Tig just have gloated away over what I blurted out about Verda coming Friday night and then just make me have to deal with seeing his big, smiling head all day? Why'd he have to space out like he was planning something? Why'd he have to plan something? Part of me really wants to believe he didn't get all gloaty and point fingers at me because he's just being 'the bigger man' on the whole "you were right" thing, but I know he's not…he's just being…Tig.

Once again, Tig's nodding…Jesus, I really wish he'd stop that shit, but it's not like before, he's not nodding to whoever he was talking to inside his head this time. "Right," he groans and rolls his eyes like he remembers Joss putting him in charge now. "I'll get Juice. Tell him we're all staying the fuck home tonight, the way we shoulda been in the fucking first place!" His voice is heavy and vehement, but he's smiling…genuinely happy. For added effect Tig tosses the PCV valve into the air once and easily catches it, clapping me on the shoulder before he turns to get back to work on that Chevrolet. "See ya Friday night, Ope." He smiles again, and walks away. But I can't move…still stuck there in the store room…wondering what the hell I just got caught up in.


	116. Trimming Down

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 116

"I don't believe we're really doing this," Lauren was full of apprehensions, standing in the barn with a Dremel in her hand, the chocolate brown, wooly female alpaca lashed to the wall with the crossties normally used for horses. Joss and Lauren had modified them into a crude harness that would bind and hold the alpaca against the wall; it was the best they could come up with on the meager budget they had; the goat grooming stand was too small for alpacas, and buying a fourteen hundred dollar alpaca chute was out of the question. They lacked a lot of appropriate things in what they were about to attempt…but they couldn't afford the proper kind of livestock equipment, or a vet, or even the fancy, specialized Tooth-A-Matic hand held trimming machine. Besides, this wasn't an emergency, or a medical procedure; this was routine alpaca upkeep …and they'd have to learn how to do it eventually…so why not now? But Lauren and Joss weren't the only ones who were nervous, and doubtful. The alpaca bleeted and warbled and groaned, dirty, little cloven toenails scraping against the cement floor of the barn as she tried to get out of whatever predicament Lauren and Joss had gotten her into.

Joss just shook her head, looking at the snaggled and uneven, overgrown teeth that protruded from the lower jaw of the vocal alpaca. "I don't believe you're doing this," she smiled smugly back, though she was nervous, but Joss's emphasis had been on the contraction "you're." For once it was Lauren doing the 'dirty work,' Joss the one giving directions, making suggestions, merely trying to hold the livestock that Lauren was charged with performing some bit of medical maintenance or hygiene upon. In this case it was kind of both; alpaca teeth grew continuously and the young, adult, chocolate female had been neglected for some time when she was "surrendered" to the rescue, and now it was up to Joss and Lauren to correct her teeth. If they didn't, not only would the young alpaca not be able to eat properly and suffer from malnutrition, but she'd also look ridiculously scary with a bunch of twisted, brownish-yellowish looking teeth jutting out of her otherwise sweet, chocolate face. And the best tool for the job, when the Tooth-A-Matic was out of price range, was a Dremel…according to Dr. Forpaw…who wasn't present.

"Hey, if she spits, it's getting on your face too, you know!" Lauren reminded with bantering sharpness, but Joss could tell that she was a little frustrated by the reminder that Joss had the easier part this time. "You know, if you hadn't gotten your groove back, then I'd still be forcing you to face whatever your fears were and..." for some reason Lauren's lecture faded into nothing and she was oddly quiet. She wasn't really that nervous about trimming the alpaca's teeth, was she? But as soon as Joss looked at her friend and business partner, she knew Lauren was staring at the black and red cast…again. Lauren ended up staring at Joss's broken wrist a lot. In fact, Lauren was the only person who did stare at it; save for Gemma…but that was something different than whatever Lauren had going on in her head about Joss's cast…and whatever Gemma's issue was, Joss still felt nervous and protective of Tig whenever thoughts of Gemma came up. But now was not about Gemma, or Tig and Gemma. Joss had to soothe away Lauren's…cast issues…without giving into the urge Joss had to hide her cast behind her back whenever she felt Lauren staring at it like that. Joss had to act like the cast was no big thing, that it didn't mean Tig was some horrible beast; Tig was Tig, and Joss would always love him…he was building them a coffin…he wanted her with him forever; they couldn't be more in love! She had to show that to Lauren, let Lauren see that Tig allegedly breaking Joss's wrist and roughing her up was done with his wife's best interests at heart. But even more so, Joss had to get Lauren back on track so they could help that poor, snaggle-toothed alpaca.

"You know, that Dremel should work pretty well on her feet, too." Joss said, pretending that she'd never seen where Lauren's eyes had been, or like Lauren hadn't cut her sentence short. And really, Joss's hopes for the miracles the Dremel could perform were running high. Not only did they have the chocolate alpaca's teeth to trim, but all three of them needed the two nails that grew out of the front of their footpads trimmed as well.

"Oh," Lauren's whole body kind of gave a surprised jump like she'd been startled awake, her eyes finally leaving Joss's cast and moving to the snarled toenails that still fought to dig enough into the concrete floor to affect escape as the alpaca bleeted and groaned some more. Lauren looked up at Joss again, swinging the Dremel in her hand a bit. "Still, I'm going to saw off a living thing's teeth," she sighed, then looked at Joss again, but not at the cast…not really anyway. "And I know it's for her own good, and it's going to help her in the long run. So why do I feel like this is the worst thing I've ever done in my life?"

If there was some double meaning in that, Joss was choosing to ignore it again. Instead she kind of snorted a laugh. "Knowing you, this is probably the worst thing you've ever done in your life."

And then Lauren's brow furrowed and she stared at Joss and only Joss. "What makes you say that?"

But Joss smiled that smug smile again and arched an eyebrow. "I married Tig."

Lauren just rolled her eyes and shook her head as her own words bounced off of her. "Okay, you wanna try to get all four of her feet taken care of too, that's fine. You're the one that's holding her," she sighed, and finally began to walk towards the nervous alpaca, Joss following, but before they were even in position to begin their task, Lauren's eyes glimpsed at Joss's cast one more time. "Guess I can take it if you can take it."

Hmm…those last words did have a double meaning…Lauren was having trouble getting right with how Joss ended up with that cast on her arm…at least, Lauren was having trouble with the story she'd heard around the club, anyway. For a moment Joss wished she could let her best friend in on the secret, Lauren having a sudden aversion of or hatred of Tig was not something Joss wanted, or Tig deserved…well, Tig didn't deserve it over the cast, that was. But Joss knew she could say nothing…nothing…no…even if Lauren was developing any distastes for anything, Joss wouldn't let herself play into this or tell Lauren what really happened. What was between Joss and Tig was between her and Tig. No one else got to have opinions on it or make any judgments…but Joss did not want to actually have to say to Lauren, her best friend, "look, some things are 'off limits,' okay?" So, once again…just like always…Lauren's stares, and her most recent comment, went ignored, Joss walking over in front of the alpaca and softly stroking her wooly neck before wrapping her arms around it, calming the noisy, nervous wooly beast down and then looking to Lauren and the Dremel. "Ready when you are."

Author's Note: Let me begin by saying I'm sorry that this so late (it's 4:30am 8/24) and so short! It was not my intention to skip posting a chapter on Tuesday. But, I'm sure some of you heard, if not experienced, the 5.8 earthquake we had here on Tuesday in the east coast area of the United States. I live in Maryland, which was among the area that was shaken by the quake, and as result, we lost electrical power at our house. (No other damage though, other than things falling off shelves and horses, cats and dogs going absolutely crazy. And I'm not stunned that the power went out either. The original part of my house was built in the 1790's, and the wiring is so weird and fragile that if anyone in the house sneezes too hard, we lose ) Anyway, I wasn't able to finish this chapter, or post it until about two hours ago. I'm trying to get myself back on "schedule" so here's this for now, and I should have chapter 117 up Wednesday afternoon – evening. Thank you for your patience, and if you experienced the earthquake, I hope that you suffered no significant damage.

Other than that, thank you all for continuing to read and to comment! I say it all the time, but truly, you cannot guess how much you all inspire me to keep going with this when ideas are lacking! It's been all of you who have kept this story alive and I couldn't have been blessed with a better team of story "doctors" and "nurses" than I already have been! Thank you!

Oh, and the Tijo photoalbum is updated…still accessible via my profile page…that's all…finally. Thanks again! - Grace


	117. Second Shift

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 117

Hap still looked confused, but he was all for this at least. "Friday night," he said, wiping his black hands on the front of his garage smock and nodding at Tig like Hap was penciling the date into some mental calendar. "But…we doing this because of Ope, or we doing this because of your girl?"

What? Okay, yeah, so Tig did understand the question, but now he was sort of wondering that himself. Either way, Tig's plans for Friday night could end up meaning something significant for both Joss and Opie…not that it was going to make them "friends" or anything…it really wasn't at all about Joss and Opie together, it was about them separately, but it still could have impacts for both of them…they'd both be surprised, that was for sure. But now part of Tig was even wondering if he hadn't included Hap in this just to see what girl he showed up with on Friday night, Slinky-slinky bitch, or Dede…or both of them…or none of them…Hap was with every girl and with none of them all at the same time…like Tig used to be…shit…"used to be"…okay, Tig had to stop thinking about that before he realized how fucking happy he was again and it put him in another fucking 'good mood.'

Tig shook his head a little and looked at Hap, wondering why Hap was so interested in for whose benefit they were doing this anyway. "Don't worry about it; it'll all work out right." That was the only thing Tig was sure of. But this thing Tig was planning…it was part of that happiness he always tried to avoid feeling, like it or not…but he'd been planning it…all day, his hands would disappear into black, greasy coils of engines, but his head was lost in how much he knew Joss wanted this and needed it too. Things were changing between them, but in a good way…a good way that Tig had never anticipated. They were building a coffin…this was the biggest commitment they'd ever made to one another…and Tig had to make sure that his sweet, dark angel was with him, had to have someone he could trust to put her where she belonged after he was gone. He'd wanted that brother to be Ope…Tig had wanted that so fucking hard…but Ope…well, and Tig couldn't blame him for this, but Ope was struggling to find his place as SAA just like Tig had flaked here and there while learning how to shake all the Jax shit out of the VP slot and become what this club hadn't had since Jax sewed the vice president badge onto his cut. There was a lot more…governing…to be done under the badge of vice president…and Ope had been the first example…this Verda thing, Ope's reluctance, his nervousness, none of that was very Sergeant at Arms, or even MC…and it was Tig's place to remind Ope, a lower officer, of that. And Ope had seemed like maybe he was getting his shit together, realizing what his duties were and how he should and shouldn't be promoting himself…but Tig just wasn't sure about him anymore…women messed Opie up…a lot…and while maybe that wasn't a 'bad thing' to everyone, to Tig it was a nightmare that spoke of how Ope may not be able to follow through with what he'd promised to do for Joss. But Happy? Yeah…that was a guarantee…Hap could do it…he would do it…didn't matter if he hated Joss or loved her more than Ope did, Hap could do it…that was Hap's gift. But…damn it, this was fucking ridiculous, but Tig wasn't sure he liked the way Hap would do it…Joss didn't need to be assassinated or executed, Tig didn't want it to be violent, he didn't want her turned into some bloody mess. He wanted her gently released from the crazed, agony of the grief he knew she'd feel, then laid there next to him in their coffin, her head on his chest and his arm over her. That Hap wouldn't do; no way, no how; it would never cross Hap's mind to do that. But Ope? Yeah…that screamed Opie…Opie already knew that's what Joss would want, Ope understood Joss in ways that drove Tig absolutely insane…but Tig was realizing that was why he'd chosen Ope to begin with.

"I just don't get it, man." Hap still shook his head, but Tig knew he wasn't backing out. "Why you want me to 'get to know' her? I know her; Joss is your girl…no disrespect or nothin', but ain't that all I have to know?"

"I didn't say you had to 'get to know her,'" Tig couldn't help how his voice got a bit louder and rougher, he just didn't like how those words sounded, he was the only one who would ever "know" Joss, damn it! Plus, Tig was also feeling a bit trapped too. He wasn't ready to just put this "send her to me" shit to Hap yet. There may still be hope for Opie to come around and act right in a full time capacity, and if Tig could get Ope for this, then Tig wanted Ope for this! Besides, Tig wasn't looking forward to trying to explain the whole "we're building a coffin, our coffin" deal to Hap and ask him to be the one to send Joss to Tig. Hap wasn't going to understand the poetry of the phrase "send her to me" the way Ope did…oh shit…shit fucking shit…Tig just thought about something he'd said as being "poetry!" What the hell was happening? But that did describe Ope's outlook on things…poetic…Ope saw images and then analyzed them into other things and meanings…so did Joss…which was why Ope got her as well as he did. Damn it…why the hell did Opie have to go all…soft and dippy over Verda? Why'd he have to throw the monkey wrench of doubt into the promise he'd made Tig, and Joss? How the hell did anyone go "_dippy_?" What the hell was that? Was that the whole jumping into a lake naked thing? No…that was "_skinny dipping_," not "_dippy dipping_." What the hell was "_dippy dipping_?" That sounded more like what Hap was doing with Slinky-slinky bitch and Dede…and whoever else…_dippin'_ his _dippy_ everywhere he went…what? Seriously, what the fuck was that? Something that fucking stupid did not just organize itself inside Tig's brain…but it did…Jesus fucking Christ, why did this shit always happen when he tried to think about shit? Poetry…that was why…poetry was the lynch pin that got pulled and let all the crazy out…and it never would have been in there to be pulled if Tig wasn't so desperate to secure "forever" for him and Joss.

And then there was a hard shove on Tig's shoulders and snapping fingers, Hap's voice was there too. "Hey bro, come on back," Hap's hands were beckoning towards himself like waving Tig in for a cleared landing.

Okay, good…Tig was back again, no more…whatever it was. "Sorry, man." He shook his head at Hap.

Hap shrugged, hardly concerned. "I been watching you space out like that for years, it's all good." And it was…at least one thing was going right here. When Tig was king, Ope, if he got his shit together, was still going to vice president, and Hap, hell yeah…he'd make an awesome SAA…he got Tig…and there was nothing Tig had done or would do that could ever rattle Hap…but would Hap ever get Joss? Would he ever understand what she'd need when the time came, and how she'd need it?

"What the hell was I saying?" Tig asked next, trying to access the conversation he'd been in the middle of now…but there were so many things getting in between him and it…some _dippy_ and some good. _Dippy_…God damn it! But Hap held off that onslaught's return.

"You were saying that you didn't say that I had to 'get to know' Joss." Hap wasn't ruffled, but he was a little puzzled still.

Tig nodded, secure in where he'd left off now. "You don't. Just…see what she's like. That's all."

Hap nodded, like maybe there really was a difference and he understood what it was, but still, he was full of questions. Hap was a lot of things…a lot of things that Tig had always admired, but one thing Hap wasn't was a brother who tried, or even wanted to, put any kind of "moves" on another brother's girl. "But…why am I doing this, man? What? You willing her to me when you kick off or some shit?" Hap laughed like he obviously didn't expect that to be it…but then his laugh stopped abruptly and he looked back at Tig with a very serious and almost panicked expression. "You're not, are you?"

"No!" Tig's answer was quick and loud and defensive, but then he started to laugh. That would have been a mess…a real shit-sucker of a predicament for Hap, the _dippy-dipper_…Tig dies, and then there's Joss willed to Happy, an instant old lady that Hap would have to take care of and provide for out of respect for a departed brother. Joss was Tig's property, he could will her to anyone he liked…but he wouldn't…not ever. Joss's place was with Tig, wherever Tig was. "It's not that, alright? I just want you to…you know, kinda know who she is a little bit…cuz…you know…she's my old lady; the day I become president, she'll be in it with me." Okay, that sounded like it made sense, even if it didn't.

And Hap was reacting exactly like it didn't; quirking an eyebrow. "What the fuck? You sound like God damn Bill and Hillary."

Tig heard himself growl in frustration, but it wasn't Hap it was aimed at. Why the hell did this have to be such a hard thing to secure? He couldn't tell Hap what it was…not yet…not when there was still a chance that Ope was going to straighten up and be able to come through…this was Ope's job…this was the best, most kindest, biggest act of love he could ever perpetrate in the name of Joss! Joss deserved the care and respect of a hand like Ope's…not the cold, indifferent brutality of Happy…but if Happy was all there was, then Happy was all there was. Only time would tell…and time would have to tell Tig before Tig told Hap. And while Tig was waiting for an answer from 'time,' he was going to at least try to get Hap to see who and what Joss was…if Hap could see that, then maybe…just maybe, he'd understand how to do this, if the task became his to do. "Just," but there was so much dissatisfied anger and aggravation blocking Tig's words. He shook his head at Hap in lieu of an apology, Hap understanding, staying cool, and finally Tig geared it down and took a deep breath. "Just do this for me, bro. A'ight?"

Even though he didn't understand, Happy nodded, his sharp, dark eyes conveying how well he understood that this meant something heavy to Tig. "Okay," he agreed, but then kind of sighed. "But, I thought you woulda had enough of other dudes sniffin' 'round your old lady."

"Me too," said a voice from behind Tig that had no business in what Tig had been discussing with Hap, but it was there, interjecting itself nonetheless. Tig didn't have to turn around or even look over his shoulder, but he did anyway, finding Gemma standing there with some kind of knowing look on her face, lips pursed in some new, enigmatic disapproval. But just like when her eyes had hit Joss's cast in the parking lot that day, it didn't last long, vanishing the moment the queen held out a set of keys to Tig, wanting him to bring a car around for a customer. Tig watched Gemma's expression relax, but her stare never did. "Dodge Omni."


	118. Hail Mary

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 118

At this point, all Joss could really do was hope that Tig fell asleep. Maybe that's all he needed? Some sleep…and tomorrow, whatever the volatile mood he'd come home from work in would be magically cast off? No…she knew that wasn't likely…nor was it very Tig, either. Only good moods slipped off of him like that, leaving behind some dried, crackling casing; evidence of how contentment and bliss would never become part of Tig enough to contain him. Too much raged within her man, and that temperament would always bust free of any happy skin that tried to surround it. And that temper was weighing heavy tonight, plummeted through the air around them and clanked on the floor, stomped through the screen door from the garage into the kitchen as though Tig had brought some angry and unsettled guest home for dinner.

Tig had been quiet, looked at Joss a lot from across the kitchen table as though he were keeping an eye on her, making sure she wasn't somehow being stolen away, but he said nothing; and always there was some faded scowl on his face, ice blue eyes that chased hers away if by chance Joss happened to look into them. Tig's cold glare melted only when Joss would catch it settling on her cast. Dinner had been mute in a way that left the macaroni and cheese with bacon, and Joss's plain mac and cheese, feeling cold despite the steam that rose from it. Joss understood that she was not to speak without Tig needing to tell her so…if Tig was quiet, then she would be quieter…that silence was louder than anything. Joss was used to Tig's brooding nature. She didn't mind that; it was "home" to her. She also had no fear of his lunatic ravings, bloodthirsty and violent though they were…but silence? No, silence wasn't good…silence made her tremble inside. But it wasn't out of fear, she was in no danger, no matter the way Tig glared at her and backed off her meager attempts to connect with him in the way they usually did when he got home. Silence was scary because it meant Tig was displeased with himself, that he'd failed at something, that he'd given into something; that he hadn't lived up to the man, brother and officer he knew he was. It broke Joss's heart to know her man was suffering like that…and it made it ten times worse to know there was nothing she could do about it. He wouldn't speak to her about whatever this was; Joss knew that…and ached with it too. She wanted so badly to help him, but Tig would not allow her to; to Tig, trying to get him to open up at a time like this was more insult than compassion. Tig's silence would be there until it somehow managed to grind up whatever it was that plagued him, make smaller pieces of it that could be shoved into whatever dark corners were left with space enough to store it in. Until then, her man would tread those turbulent waters…alone…and Joss would weep in secret over all the ways she couldn't save him, drowning on the dry land she wished so badly Tig would let her pull him onto.

He hadn't touched her since he'd come home, not even an accidental brush. Nor did he curl his arms and legs around her in the darkness of their room, and for the first time in nearly a year, Joss began to feel like she shouldn't be in the same bed with Tig, like at any moment he'd give her a hard, unkind shove or remind her with a sharp snarl that he _fucked_ her, he didn't _sleep_ with her. But he wasn't angry with her, Joss understood that as well as she understood how difficult it was to soothe the unrest that had seized control of her man. This mood, this despondency, it demanded many things, but it could ask for none of them by name. All Joss could do was be there in whatever capacity Tig needed her, but he'd forgone the most obvious one; he hadn't fucked her…he was too deep in that dimension of blackness to feel or want much of anything. And it was still there, as heavy as a steel derrick, the mattress feeling so crushed by the mass of it that Joss felt as though she were rolling down hill, towards Tig, even though she knew she wasn't…but still her hand gripped the black, wrought iron of the headboard tightly to maintain herself on her side. Silence…if she wasn't careful, it just may swallow her up.

She didn't want to think it, but it was unavoidable. Tig's deathly quiet humor had to be something to do with Gemma. Tig loved Gemma; Joss knew that. Nothing else would twist Tig around himself more than having some sort of falling out with the queen. Tig's loyalty to the club and to Clay, and what was Clay's was fierce…but when something disrupted it, when something got inside of him and contradicted that homage, Tig got quiet…silent…more silent than the coldest of midnights. Joss wondered for a moment if Gemma paced the halls of her home right now, wrapped in her cotton plaid robe while Clay snored, oblivious to some guilt ridden, disgusted, furious mood of his queen. Joss's cast was in the center of it…but she was no longer sure if it was catalyst or salve, Gemma's reaction to it so prickled and provoked, while it seemed to melt away the iciness of Tig's glower. But somehow, some way, this _thing_ in bed with Joss and Tig was about Gemma.

"Stop it!" The suddenness and angry combustion of Tig's words seemed to shake the entire house, though he hadn't moved at all, leaving Joss to wonder for a moment if he'd even been speaking to her. She didn't dare to face him, not tonight, scraped the expanse of herself together into as small a thing as she could be and lay there with her back to him, trying to pretend she wasn't really there, potentially disturbing him. But he was speaking to her, and she was disturbing him…so irritated and hypersensitive to any and all annoyance that by simply laying still in the dark, curled into as small a ball as she could tuck herself into, Joss had managed to incite Tig into barking at her. "God damn it, Joss! I mean it!"

He wasn't asleep and hadn't been, these weren't vague words called out to her from the depths of a dream…but what did he mean? What was she doing? As eager as she was to "stop it," Joss was hesitant to ask for the specifics of what _it_ was…but she had to. What could she be doing from where she was? No part of her was touching him, she'd given him most of the bed, she'd been breathing low and shallow on purpose, trying so hard not to make a sound, to make it seem like she wasn't there at all. What was she doing? "I'm sorry," they were the first words to leave her mouth, her head ducking under them in a submissive bow that she couldn't help performing. "You need your sleep; I'll go downst—"

"How the fucking hell am I supposed to sleep when you're laying over there pretending to be asleep and keeping me a-fucking-wake with it?" He was too locked up in his discombobulated anger to realize how ridiculous he sounded, but his mood still swung like a pendulum between them and Joss had not even the tiniest of amused reactions.

"It's okay," she said softly, without looking at him, without moving. It was "okay," Joss understood what this absurd outburst was; more guilt. Tig felt badly for coming home so disgruntled and making her suffer when she'd done nothing wrong. But that Joss could at least soothe, "you know I don't mind. I understand." she told him, hoping to hear Tig sigh or grind his teeth or even put a hand on her to let her know that he'd heard her and understood too. But it didn't come; Joss dared then to turn her head just a bit back towards him, checking on her man, was he alright?

Tig shook his head, hackles up, looking towards her with aggravation hard in his dark lit features. "No you don't." He told her roughly, but whether it was meant to back her off or call her out for daring to put herself on some level with him that she'd yet to achieve, Joss wasn't sure. He looked away again at the darkness itself, but his hand settled hard and possessively around the crown of her head like a preacher blessing a member of his flock and his tone slacked to something sadder than the prior despondent anger. "I hope you never understand."

Chapter 118; Part 2

The strap of the nightgown she wore slipped down her shoulder to her elbow, the whole garment, which Tig always thought looked too big for her to begin with, was inching lower on that side, his eyes following the soft roundness of her plump, white breast, rising freer and freer of the white polka dotted black nightgown with every shallow breath Joss took. But her eyes, which were leveled at his mouth, not at his eyes, held no trace of seduction or desire. Joss was there before him like a caught rabbit, heart beat thundering under her skin, every breath as faint as her pale features, frozen with so much worry and pain…for her old man. She wanted to make this better; she wanted to chase away whatever it was and pick the locks on every shackle that held Tig to the torture she knew he felt. She didn't know how, but she was willing to be the sacrifice that may bring an end to it all…the strap of her nightgown lingering lowly on her trembling arm, beautiful breast heaving out of the polka dotted cotton…he could have her body…he could do to her whatever it was that he'd wished to, or failed to, do to whomever it was that caused this dark disposition…Tig would never hurt her…but Joss would let him.

"Tig, I can't…" her voice was a murmur at first, and she turned her head away from him as if that would hide how she wiped at a tear that wavered in the corner of her eye, shuddering as she took a quick, deep breath and looked towards him again, but not at him, her glittering, green eyes assuming their place again away from his, her head hanging down, shoulders stooped and shaking as if she could no longer bear the weight of her worry and grief for him. "Please…tell me what to do…anything; I don't care what it is."

Jesus Christ…Tig's eyes closed and he felt a quick shiver move through him and when it did he could feel exactly how close he and that damn girl were. Whatever he was feeling, he'd never feel it alone. Joss loved him…she loved him more than what was normal, more than what was sane; she'd do anything to end his suffering, because it was also her own. He'd never hurt her…but he was. The hardness in him suddenly broke like a leaping jaguar, seizing Joss up in his arms so fast and hard that at first all he was aware of was bones crushed to his chest. Her breath was hot on his sweaty skin as she struggled for it within his coils, but Tig couldn't let go, held her tightly, almost wishing she'd faint in his arms so that she wouldn't hear what he knew he had to tell her.

Somehow Joss's ribs expanded under the pressure of his arms and she relaxed into the breath she drew, her hands climbing his chest with smooth, soft strokes; her satiny fingertips pushing slowly through the dark hairs on his chest towards his neck where her eyelashes fluttered against his hot skin. The effervescence of that gossamer touch, the way it hinted at some unspoken bond…some intimacy that they'd shared since the first moment they looked at one another, was something that Tig had hated for so long. He was by now well drowned in that intimacy, but still he hated that gentle tingle that all but flooded out the terribleness of what he was. He was a terrible thing…and he had no right to feel something so holy from such a sweet, dark, perfect angel. None of this was her fault and yet she'd suffered the most…from the arm he'd allegedly broken to this grief that smothered them both. And there was only one way to end it…only one.

Joss clung to him, how much smaller she was so obvious in a way that Tig had never considered before, a scared and saddened little thing in his arms that despite it all, was not about to give up her efforts to somehow protect him…from himself. Her hands continued tracking up his chest, slowly but unstoppably, looking to latch around his neck and hold him to her, to shelter him as he did her, and Tig felt himself tense, rejection and undeserved-ness gushing like blood from a hacked off limb. "I lov—"

"Don't!" His voice shook the house like a bomb, his arms open wide and he saw Joss roll across the bed, cast out of him like some white light that tried to possess him, regaining herself before she rolled off of the foot of it, looking back at him with wide eyes, full more of confusion than fear, but her expression changing quickly back to pain and worry the moment Tig realized he'd balled himself up, face to his knees and hands on his head.

"Tig?" She was outside of him now; her voice seemed so far away, and he felt as though he'd pushed her much further away than Tig knew he had. And yet still her voice reached him through the rubble of dismalness. Joss wasn't saying his name…she was asking "why" in the only way she was allowed to, and he had to answer her…and he would…that had been part of why he'd pushed her away; trying to get her where she'd be clear of whatever might fall down from the sky above in their world together. Joss…sweet, beautiful, perfect Joss…she'd never sought out Opie's attentions...she'd never put herself out…she'd never made herself available…she'd never offered herself to anyone but her old man…unlike Gemma. Joss's only crime had been the same as was Tig's, but on so much a smaller scale. Lunch with Ope was in no way what Tig kept secret about Gemma…but both he and Joss had taken what it was that someone had offered them…something that neither of them should have ever have accepted. They were the same thing, Tig and that damn girl…in some way, without even knowing it Joss had only followed her old man's lead. And now it was time to save them both from ever wandering down such a path again.

Tig felt the mattress move, Joss was on her knees now, having crept back towards him but still remained a respectable distance from him, her good arm cradling her cast, waiting in patient anguish for him to say, or do something. She had to know…Tig could confess and absolve both their sins if he told her…she had to know…but what if it hurt her? What if it took away the only mother Joss had ever had? But she had to know…there was no other way out of where they were. The air felt colder than before as Tig raised his head, finding himself looking directly back into the sad greenness of Joss's eyes, but this time she didn't look away, and he didn't chase her off. She had to know…this had been trapped inside him for so long, and now it was trapping him and Joss both…she had to know. Tig breathed in deeply, looked down the bed at her, Joss leaning involuntarily towards him, feeling all that he felt. Tell her…tell her…end this for both of them. "I almost fucked Gemma."

Author's Note: I am sorrier than sorry for my long, unintended absence! Mother Nature apparently hasn't been happy with me lately! First there was that 5.8 earthquake on two weeks ago on Tuesday. Then, Thursday, two weeks ago, I was crying my eyes out all day because I was certain that I was going to have to put a horse down if she didn't just die in front of me; put an emergency call into the vet and waited all day. Luckily, we saved my bratty, little Appaloosa Sport Horse mare, she's fine (thank you, God!), but the following Friday, between the stress of Thursday and the dropping barometric pressure of coming Hurricane Irene, I had an asthma attack that put me in the hospital overnight…first asthma that was that bad in over ten years! I got home on Saturday, before the hurricane really got bad…we lost electric power about 3am Sunday morning…and get this…it took until the following Friday at 8pm for Baltimore Gas & Electric to get it back on! And we had power through Labor Day weekend (which was crazy with an MC) only to lose power one more time from Tuesday – Thursday night when my basement flooded Tuesday night after 6 inches of rain fell! Needless to say, I am DONE with weather! Enough has been more than enough!

But, on another note, thank you all for your support and for not giving up on me! I owe a couple of you reply messages, which I'll get to this weekend! And Bad Company, I will be catching up on "The Good Life!" Again, sorry for the lack of updates…but I'll be back to work on Monday, per usual! I promise! Thank you all again for all your support and your concern! You guys are the greatest!


	119. Snakes and Apples

_Disclaimer #1:__ I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story._

_Disclaimer #2:__ All original characters, including those based upon information graciously supplied by my readers, and the actions and beliefs of those original characters, are of my own interpretations and should not be assumed to completely represent, as a whole, the individual who agreed to become part of this story. This disclaimer applies retroactively beginning 7/30/10. I apologize for any inconveniences its lateness may have caused and sincerely thank everyone for supporting my work._

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 119

There was slack in the lead shank clipped to the big blonde Belgian stud's halter, his massive yellow head dropped in front him in a relaxed posture as he walked; he trusted Lauren enough to follow easily along behind her now, no pulling backwards or stopping short. He didn't even toss his head and snort like an insecure foal; the giant horse was on good terms with Lauren, made even better by the half hour they'd just spent lunging in the riding ring, Lauren giving him enough confidence to focus on walking and trotting and not be afraid of the harmless lunging whip that dragged along the ground behind him as silent encouragement to keep moving. With the trust issues the huge stallion had, neither Joss nor Lauren were ready to throw a saddle on his back and climb on, but it wasn't fear for their own safety that held them back. It was knowing what was best for that big horse that kept them so cautious; rushing him into something before he was sure about it, or the girls and their intentions, and he'd never ever trust either them. It was bad enough the big blonde was given a legitimate reason to have an aversion to Joss, but having him hate both Joss and Lauren to the point of violently striking out at them was in no way acceptable. So they were moving slowly with him, started him the same way they'd start a colt, beginning with walking up to him in the field without him running away, then moving to catching him and bringing him into the barn where they'd put him in crossties and get him used to being curried and brushed, patiently teaching him to pick his manhole cover like hooves up for them when they reached down and softly yanked on the long, feathery, off-white hairs of his fetlock which hung like pale beards behind his gigantic feet.

Well…really, it was Lauren who did all of that…not Joss. Not that Joss didn't want to; her fear of the huge Belgian had subsided for the most part ever since Tig allegedly broke her arm, but Joss wouldn't call herself "hopeful" yet in terms of being able to strike up a good relationship with the big horse. But she wanted to, and at times she could even feel that it would be there one day…but right now was way too soon to try…and if Joss wasn't yet "hopeful" about it, then her attitude also wasn't positive either…and with a horse that size, who had the issues he did, not being positive was an invitation to some kind of disaster. And Joss had enough of a disaster on her hands now…she didn't need anything else going wrong. For days she'd worried about what had happened between Tig and Gemma…and now, Joss wished she'd never found out. It left her in a place that Joss hated being…pulled at her from more sides than anything ever had before, pricked at her loyalties here and there, but always at their center was Tig…and there would never come a day when she'd stand in opposition to her man. But still…Joss knew too much…far too much.

"Hey," Lauren was all smiles as she and the big horse walked towards the barn, his colossal, heavy feet sounding as though they were crushing the gravel beneath them to dust. "You should of come up to the ring to watch us! You didn't have to stand down here." She laughed as she rested the lunging whip against her shoulder, but already the big blonde stud picked up Joss's scent and chuffed, his head flying upwards, ears pricking forward towards Joss but then laying back against his head. Immediately Lauren turned towards him, but stepped to the side of him to avoid being clocked by the two massive hammers at the ends of his powerful front legs just incase the big guy reared up, or tried to bolt forward even. "It's okay, big boy," she assured him in a soft voice, patting his thick, well muscled neck. "Come on, you were so good up there in the arena, don't wreck it all now. It's okay, Joss isn't going to hurt you, settle down."

No…Joss wasn't going to hurt him…not him. "That's why I stayed down here," she said to Lauren, nodding towards the big horse's reaction to her. "I didn't want to be a distraction; he's enough to handle all by himself."

Lauren sighed, still patting the big horse's neck, but she was looking at Joss…looking at Joss in a way that was becoming familiar, expression staid but glazed over with a friendly veneer, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, and she was shaking her head a little bit, twitching a brief frown. That was getting to be the "I know something you don't want me to know" look…and Lauren had been wearing it ever since Joss showed up to work one day with a cast on her arm. But Lauren never said anything that alluded to that, she knew not to; something Joss had been glad of and was hoping would continue, looking away from that look on Lauren's face, hearing the big horse shuffle sideways and Lauren telling him firmly to "stand," and he did. "Well, he's coming along faster than I thought he would," Lauren continued, again too smart to abruptly leave the conversation about the big horse for some other more invasive inquisition. "He picked up on voice commands in only a few minutes, we just have to work on making him stay out on the circle; he has a tendency to come in on you…maybe he gets lonely?" she laughed, or tried to.

Joss nodded. "Good to hear," and it was…but sort of wasn't all at the same time. It was stupid, but Joss had to admit she felt some jealousy that Lauren was making so much progress with that big horse…Joss wanted her chance with him to get what Lauren had gotten out of him…but it was too soon…and Joss knew too much. However, the big horse was calmer now, his colossal head all the way down now, mouth pulling up and chewing massive clumps of grass that each rivaled half a flake of hay in size. Lauren was headed to the barn with the big horse, to put him in crossties and reward his efforts on the lunge line in the ring with another good brushing and some treats…all of that was going to be easier if Joss was somewhere else…besides, if Lauren was going to have that 'look' on her face, then Joss would prefer to not be around her, even if Lauren was smart enough not to share whatever knowledge she had. "I'm going to go get Steve and the alpacas fresh watered then feed the geese and the other small animals. Anything else I should get to while I'm at it?"

Lauren nodded, but she looked careful about what she was going to ask, patted the big, grazing horse's neck again like she needed something solid to ground her and chase that 'look' off her face. "You gave that mush-mouth snake its meds, right?"

Snake…snake…it needed meds…but the deeper those thoughts went the more Joss fought them, shaking herself like she'd suddenly been blasted by cold and had shivered. "Yeah," she answered as if she were trying to remember where they were in the conversation. "Didn't even get bit this time," Joss added with a smile, but even she could feel how empty it was…and that look was reforming on Lauren's face again…time to get out of here! "Call me if you think of anything else." and Joss was already turned, already walking away…but not fast enough.

"Joss," Lauren called, her voice stressed, how tight her throat was rang in her tone and she shifted uneasily, keeping one hand on the big horse's neck as though he were eventually the one who was going to jump in and shut her up for own good…but he didn't. "Joss, wait," Lauren sounded more sure of herself now, but avoided cockiness; it was the heartfelt concern in her voice that made Joss stop walking and turn her head back over her shoulder towards her friend…though she didn't want to hear this…her cast tucked up against her body and hidden by her other arm.

"Yeah?" It was difficult to sound like this wasn't as tense as it was, but Joss tried…knowing she'd failed when Lauren sighed but didn't back down.

"Look, I know things aren't…as…harmonious…as they usually are…at home," each one of Lauren's words was carefully chosen, nothing accusatory or judgmental able to be construed in any of them, and that made Joss stick around, curious, but still full of dread that Lauren would bring up the black and red cast on Joss's arm. "And I know that in our…world…it's not always the smartest idea to go around divulging your deepest and darkest secrets…but…well, if there ever is anything that you want to, or need to, tell someone…then…I want you to know that I understand and I know all of our…rules…I know how fragile an existence is for a woman around here, I won't tell a soul. So, I hope that if you need someone to talk to, that I'm that person, okay?"

And Joss found herself facing Lauren now, her whole body turned towards her friend…slack in the lead shank…Lauren giving her the confidence to speak if ever Joss needed too…but still there was that look on Lauren's face, the faint creases and mottled heaviness of "I know" prominent in her features…but whatever Lauren _knew_, she would keep quiet about it. But just what did she know? And perhaps Joss did need someone to talk to? Not about everything…there was no way Joss was ever telling anyone else about what Tig had told her last night…Joss may have known too much, but she'd have to know it alone…the club was safer that way. Still, Lauren's friendship and loyalty should be rewarded with something…some small tid-bit that would also serve to let Lauren know that everything was alright at its core, and that it always would be…but the low, but loud rumble of an engine and the crackle of tires spitting gravel put an end to the whole dialogue. Tig was here…and Joss knew way too much.

Author's Note: Sorry this is both late and short! Spent most of Monday going through the salvageables and un-salvageables in my previously flooded basement and it took far longer than I thought it would. But, I should have Chapter 120 up around 5pm-ish EST on Tuesday! Thanks for all the well wishes and the reviews, and please if everyone could say a little prayer, to whomever it is that you pray to, for Bad Company and her recovering friend, Skip! Both can use all the help they can get right now! Thank you all; I say it a lot, but I never mean it any less: you guys are wonderful! - Grace


End file.
